-H.        :: 


• 


AMAR1LLY 
IN  LOVE 


BELLE  K.MANIATES 


ff 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


BE  Belle  I*.  $aniate* 

AMARILLY  OF   CLOTHES-LINE 

ALLEY 

MILDEW  MANSE 
OUR   NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBORS 


"  Your  little  clump  of  wild  stuff  there  looks  like  things  tipped  over 
in  the  ice-box."    FRONTISPIECE.    See  page  94. 


AMARILLY  IN   LOVE 


BY 


BELLE  K.   MANIATES 


WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS   BY 

WILLIAM  VAN  DRESSER 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

1917 


Copyright,  1917, 
BT  LITTLE,  BROWW,  AND  COMFAHT. 


Ml  rights  retcrved 
Published,  August,  1917 


Noifooot)  £jrrss 
Set  up  and  electrotyped  by  J.  S.  Gushing  Co.,  Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

14  Your  little  clump  of  wild  stuff  there 
looks  like  things  tipped'  over  in 
the  ice-box "  .  .  .  Frontispiece 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  do  it  ?"  he  asked 

interestedly PAGE    50 

"  How  did  you  know  me,  son  ?  "  .        "      178 

It  was  not  smoke  that  soon  issued  from 
the  pipe,  but  beautiful,  sparkling 
bubbles  "  211 


[v] 

2023902 


AMARILLY  IN   LOVE 


CHAPTER  I 


H 


The  strident  call  of  the  brakeman 
roused  James  Courville  from  semi-slumber 
to  a  sense  of  his  surroundings.  He  stepped 
from  the  train  into  the  very  heart  of  the 
taut  little  town  which  was  devoid  of  strag- 
gling outskirts,  the  fields  and  woods  creeping 
close  to  civilization.  The  business  portion 
was  confined  to  one  straight  broad  street. 
The  passers-by  exchanged  cheery,  intimate 
greetings,  and  there  was  that  general  pre- 
vailing atmosphere  of  kindly  interest  that 
makes  even  a  new-comer  feel  that  he  is  not 
an  alien. 

A  dog  made  friendly  advances;  a  little 
lad  halloaed  in  hospitable  tone ;  a  benignant 
old  man,  responding  to  the  smiling  salutation 
of  a  group  of  young  girls,  included  him  in  the 
courtly  sweep  of  his  broad-brimmed  hat;  a 


AMARILLY  IN  LO\7E 

wee  child  tottering  behind  its  mother  held 
out  wavering,  inviting  arms.  Courville  felt 
a  sudden  thrill  as  though  borne  into  a  tangible, 
human  existence. 

When  he  came  to  the  hostelry  of  Haleboro, 
the  landlord  stood  in  the  doorway  with  wel- 
coming smile.  Courville  asked  to  be  directed 
to  a  livery  stable. 

"Round  on  next  street,"  was  the  reply, 
"but  the  rigs  are  all  out  to  a  funeral." 

"Can  I  find  some  one  with  a  private  con- 
veyance to  take  me  where  I  want  to  go?" 

"Depends  upon  which  way  you  are  going." 

"Which  sounds  like  the  Cheshire  Cat," 
reflected  Courville,  flashing  a  sudden,  fleet 
smile  that  most  agreeably  lighted  a  plain  and 
somewhat  sombre  countenance. 

"Is  there  a  road,"  he  asked  with  the  look 
of  one  who  seems  to  be  prying  his  memory, 
"called  ' The  Plains'?" 

"That's  the  road  south.  The  best  thing 
for  you  to  do  is  to  go  out  with  Jerry  Pryne. 
He  is  the  carrier  of  R.F.D.  Number  Six." 

"Does  Uncle  Sam  allow  the  carriers  to  take 
passengers?" 

"  Not  as  a  general  thing,  but  Jerry  furnishes 
his  own  rig,  so  he  can  be  independent.  He 
[2] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

won't  drive  any  one  else's  horse.  Better 
hurry  along.  Post-office  is  in  next  block." 

At  the  post-office  Courville  easily  picked 
the  carrier  of  route  Number  Six  from  the  men 
carrying  out  mail  sacks.  A  slow-moving  man 
with  meditative  grey  eyes  seemed  to  tally 
with  his  conception  of  a  man  who  "wouldn't 
drive  any  one  else's  horse." 

Courville  introduced  himself  and  asked  per- 
mission to  ride  out  on  "The  Plains."  The 
carrier  expressed  himself  as  being  glad  of 
company  and  they  started  out  on  the  mail 
route. 

"I  am  told,"  remarked  Courville  casually, 
"that  a  place  known  as  The  House  at  the 
Corners  lies  on  the  Plains." 

He  was  conscious  of  a  swift,  side  glance 
from  the  carrier. 

"Yes;  it  is  not  far  from  the  end  of  my 
route." 

The  main  street  of  Haleboro  had  now 
become  the  country  road  and  Courville  was 
greatly  entertained  by  the  mailing  procedure. 
In  front  of  each  letter  box,  which  served  the 
dual  purpose  of  post-office  and  door-plate, 
the  experienced  horse  stopped  of  his  own 
volition  while  Jerry  gathered  up  the  mail. 
[3]  . 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Seldom  were  the  letters  stamped.  A  couple 
of  pennies  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  paper  gener- 
ally accompanied  the  missive.  Frequently 
there  was  a  note  to  the  carrier  containing  a 
memorandum  of  commissions  for  the  ac- 
commodating man  to  execute  in  town,  though 
when  possible  the  members  of  the  house- 
hold came  down  to  "give  and  take"  in 
person. 

From  everyone  they  passed  on  the  road 
came  a  hearty  greeting  followed  by  comment 
on  crops  and  weather.' 

"It  must  be  nice,"  thought  the  man  of 
cities,  "to  meet  so  many  people  who  know 
you  and  seem  really  glad  to  see  you." 

"I  will  be  on  your  route  before  long,  I 
trust,"  he  said,  aloud. 

"Are  you  the  Man  at  the  Corners  ?" 

"Is  that  the  name  I  am  known  by  ?"  asked 
Courville,  amused. 

"We  knew  no  other  name  for  you.  Your 
place  is  nearly  at  the  end  of  my  route,  and 
the  last  farm  is  the  Jenkins  place." 

"My  nearest  neighbors?" 

"Yes ;  they  came  from  the  city  three  years 
ago.     Hardworking  folks  —  have  to  be,  with 
so  many  mouths  to  feed." 
•      [43 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Children?" 

"A  few.  I  take  it  you  don't  care  for 
children,"  commented  Jerry,  noting  the  tone 
of  dismay. 

Courville  winced. 

"My  only  child,  a  little  boy,  died  four 
years  ago,"  he  said  briefly. 

Jerry's  eyes  softened. 

"The  Jenkinses  have  made  your  place  their 
playground.  You'll  have  hard  work  to  keep 
them  out." 

"How  many  are  there?" 

"You  count  while  I  run  them  off.  There's 
Flamingus,  aged  seventeen ;  Gus,  sixteen ; 
Milton,  fifteen ;  Bobby,  fourteen ;  Bud, 
thirteen;  Cory,  twelve;  Try,  seven — " 

"Don't  go  any  farther!"  cried  Courville 
in  consternation. 

"There's  one  more,  but  not  a  Jenkins.  A 
man  and  his  wife  live  there  with  the  family. 
They  have  a  little  girl.  I  don't  know  their 
names,  as  they  never  get  any  mail.  The 
Jenkinses  call  the  man,  The  Boarder;  and 
his  wife,  Lily  Rose.  When  are  you  calculating 
to  move  on  to  your  place  ?  " 

"Soon.  I've  run  down  to  be  introduced 
to  it." 

[5] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Did  you  buy  it  without  seeing  it !"  gasped 
the  practical  son  of  the  soil. 

"Yes;  I  had  the  fancy  to  live  in  the 
country,  and  a  friend  of  mine  discovered 
The  Corners  and  bought  it  for  me." 

"There  it  is  —  on  your  right." 

Courville  turned  quickly. 

Set  well  back  in  the  midst  of  an  emerald 
park  of  wide-spreading  elms,  stood  an  aban- 
doned farmhouse  whose  outfields  had  long 
lain  fallow.  It  was  known  as  The  House 
at  the  Corners  because,  according  to  the 
prevailing  system  of  survey,  there  should 
have  been  a  road  where  the  house  was 
situated,  and  a  road  would  have  meant  a 
corner. 

He  gave  a  little  cry  punctuated  with  an 
exclamation  point  of  pleasure. 

"How  beautiful!" 

Jerry's  appraising  glance  was  disparaging. 
He  saw  only  a  dilapidated  farmhouse  inclosed 
by  a  wilderness  of  everything  that  grows, 
from  rhododendrons  to  dandelions. 

"Have  to  do  a  lot  to  the  soiL  But  how 
are  you  going  to  get  back  to  town?  I  don't 
return  this  way." 

"I  won't  mind  the  walk,"  Courville  assured 
[6] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

him.     "I'll  see  you  again  soon.     Thank  you 
for  bringing  me  out." 

He  walked  up  a  little  zig-zag  path.  There 
was  no  geometrical  preciseness  about  the 
grounds.  Delightful,  meandering  ways  led 
in  every  direction  to  picturesque  spots.  Here, 
a  rolling  rise  of  greensward ;  there,  a  wagging, 
willowish  brook,  its  surface  lightly  ruffled  by  a 
frisky  little  sprite  of  a  breeze;  beyond,  a 
group  of  second  growth  trees,  young  and 
slender,  but  so  close  together  that  they 
formed  a  thicket  through  which  wandered 
endless,  winding  paths";  then,  a  little  lily 
pond,  and  last  and  loveliest  of  all  were  the 
marshes  stretching  to  the  riotous  river,  their 
bogs  a  pale  green  with  the  virgin  freshness  of 
the  year. 

"It's  just  as  Beverly  pictured  it,"  he 
thought,  as  he  stooped  and  looked  about 
him  through  the  amplitude  of  mauve  space. 
"I'll  take  his  word  for  the  gloom  of  the  old 
desolate  house,  and  go  back  to  town." 

He  had  walked  about  half  a  mile  down  the 
road  when  he  was  overtaken  by  a  little  girl, 
who  was  driving  a  piebald  horse  attached  to 
a  rickety  buggy. 

"Goin'  fur?" 

[7] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"To  Haleboro." 

"Get  in.  I'm  a  goin'  to  the  first  store 
at  the  town  limits.  Can't  go  no  further 
'cause  Doxology  cuts  up  in  town.  Be  keer- 
ful !  Don't  step  in  the  butter'n  things." 

Courville  stepped  gingerly  into  the  buggy, 
and  found  himself  snugly  wedged  in  by  the 
molasses  jug,  kerosene  can,  butter  and  egg 
crocks. 

"My  name's  Cory  Jenkins,"  cordially  an- 
nounced the  little  girl,  looking  at  him  ap- 
provingly with  button-bright  eyes. 

"And  you  are  twelve  years  old,"  he  said, 
after  an  instant's  reflection. 

"Why,  how  did  you  know!" 

"I'm  a  good  guesser." 

"So  be  I.     You're  the  Man  at  the  Corners." 

"Jerry  Pryne  told  you." 

"Oh  — he  told  you,  too!" 

"Discovered!" 

"I'm  glad  you've  got  here  at  last.  You'd 
got  to  be  a  joke." 

"A  joke!     Hike  that!" 

"Well!   you   see    'twas    so   long   ago   you 

bought   the   Corners,  and  you   didn't   never 

show    up    nor    nothing.     The    Boarder    said 

you  was  like  good  luck  —  always  being  looked 

[8] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

for  and  never  comin',  and  whenever  anybody 
puts  anything  off,  we  say :  *  You're  worse 
than  the  Man  at  the  Corners.'" 

"I  see  that  it  is  indeed  high  time  I  arrived." 

"Hev  you  come  to  stay?" 

"Not  yet;  I'm  going  to  send  a  whole 
army  of  men  down  here  to-morrow  to  make 
over  the  house  and  fix  up  the  place." 

"You  ain't  goin'  to  put  any  'keep  the 
grass  off'  signs  up,  are  you?"  she  asked 
anxiously. 

"No ;  the  whole  place  will  be  open  to  you." 

"We've  come  to  feel  like  it  was  our'n.  Me 
and  Iry  and  Ceely  play  there.  That  thicket's 
swell  for  hide-and-seek.  Flam  takes  his  girl 
down  there  to  spark.  Milt  and  Gus  fish  in  the 
river.  Lily  Rose  goes  down  to  read  when  she 
has  time  and  sets  on  your  porch.  The 
Boarder  hunts  in  your  woods.  I  hope  you 
ain't  in  no  hurry.  You  could  beat  Doxy 
walking." 

She  gave  the  ample  back  of  the  horse  an  en- 
couraging slap  with  the  reins  which,  however, 
awakened  no  incentive  to  speed. 

"Hustle  up,  Dox !  You  know  there  ain't 
no  hearse  back  of  you.  We  bought  him 
from  a  minister,"  she  explained,  "and  he  led 
[9] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

so  many  funyrals  that  Dox  got  the  gait  all 
right.  The  Boarder  saws  him  up  a  lot  afore 
he  gets  into  town.  He  says  he's  ashamed 
to  go  in  like  he  was  slow  freight.  The 
Boarder  uster  to  be  a  brakeman.  But  be 
you  in  a  hurry?" 

"Not  the  slightest,"  assured  Courville. 
"I  like  to  jog  along  through  this  beautiful 
country." 

:"Tis  nice.  'Twould  seem  nicer  to  you  if 
you'd  ever  lived  in  an  alley." 

"In  an  alley!" 

"Like  we  did.  Seein'  you're  a  goin'  to  be 
our  nearest  neighbor,  you  might  as  well 
know  all  about  us  and  then  you  won't  be  a 
wonderin'  about  us  or  feel  strange-like  as 
we  done  when  we  first  come.  My  pa  died 
when  Iry,  my  little  brother,  wa'nt  more'n 
three  months  old  and  Ma  took  in  'washin's. 
We  lived  in  a  little  tumbledown  house  in 
Clothes-line  Alley,  and  as  fast  as  we  got 
old  enough,  we  all  went  to  work.  Amarilly's 
the  oldest." 

"That's  one  Jerry  forgot  to  count." 

"She's  away  to  college.  Jerry  never  seen 
her,  but  there  don't  anyone;. want  to  leave 
Amarilly  out,  'cause  she's  the  prize  package 
[10] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

of  the  Jenkinses.  When  she  was  old  enough 
to  work,  she  helped  clean  at  a  theater. 
Flamingus  (Flam  and  Flammy  for  short) 
was  a  telegraph  boy.  Gus  milked  the 
grocer's  cow.  Bobby  and  Bud  sold  papers, 
or  Bud  did,  till  he  found  his  voice  would 
bring  in.  I  wiped  dishes  at  a  boarding- 
house.  We  had  hard  sleddin*  and  then  our 
fortunes  come  all  to  once.  First  we  got 
the  Boarder.  We  didn't  have  room  nor 
dishes  enough  for  ourselves,  but  Amarilly 
thought  out  a  way  of  having  double-decker. 
Half  of  us  set  to  the  table  and  the  rest  stood 
behind  those  settin'  and  took  what  was 
handed  them.  Then  Amarilly  got  Ma  some 
swell  washings.  She  went  to  a  guild  school, 
and  the  young  lady  who  taught  her  brought 
us  her  washin's  and  got  us  all  the  surpluses 
from  the  choir  at  St.  Mark's  to  do.  Her 
name  was  Colette  King  then,  but  the  minister 
to  St.  Mark's,  Mr.  Meredith  —  we  always 
called  him  Mr.  St.  John  'cause  we  got  his 
names  mixed  up  with  saints  —  married  her. 
Sure  you  ain't  in  no  hurry?" 

"Quite  sure.     Are  you?" 

"No;    that's    why    I    think   it's   tune   to 
eat." 

[11] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

She  dove  down  into  a  basket  and  brought 
forth  a  lunch  box. 

"How  did  you  know  I  was  hungry?" 

"Ain't  you  always  hungry  ?  I  am.  Here's 
some  crullers  and  sandwiches  and  apples. 
Now,  I'll  keep  on  about  us." 

"Maybe,"  expostulated  Courville,  "your 
mother  wouldn't  like  you  to  repeat  your 
family  affairs." 

"Yes,  she  would.  She  always  says,  'Tell 
all  you  know  about  yourself  first,  afore  folks 
has  time  to  make  up  things  about  you.' 
Well,  as  I  said,  luck  had  struck  us  and  we 
was  gettin'  along  fine  when  we  all  come 
down  with  scarlit  fever  and  Mr.  St.  John 
and  Miss  King  was  away  for  the  summer. 
When  we  got  well,  we  found  we'd  all  lost 
our  jobs,  except  the  Boarder.  The  day 
they  took  the  quarrytine  off,  Amarilly  took 
back  Mr.  St.  John's  surplus  what  he  preaches 
in,  and  his  housekeeper  said  fer  to  keep  it. 
Then  she  took  home  Miss  King's  lace  waist 
and  her  housekeeper  said  to  keep  that. 
Lucky  they  did,  cause  the  surplus  kept  us 
from  starving  and  Lily  Rose  got  married  in 
the  lace  waist. 

"We  didn't  know  what  to  do  till  Amarilly 
[12] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

thought  of  rentin'  out  the  surplus  and  that 
surplus  went  some.  Amarilly  had  to  keep 
books  for  it.  She  rented  it  to  a  man  to  sing 
in  at  a  concert,  to  a  fake  weddin'  in  a  window, 
onct  to  a  corpse  'cause  he  didn't  have  stylish 
clothes,  to  the  Boarder  to  git  his  likeness 
took  to  give  Lily  Rose,  to  a  negro  minister, 
a  maskyrade  and  onct  it  got  stole  and  most 
pawned,  but  best  of  all  to  Mr.  Derry  Phillips, 
an  artist,  who  painted  it  on  a  man,  and  that 
was  the  makin'  of  Amarilly. 

"You  see  he  hired  her  to  red  up  his  studio 
and  she  cooked  his  meals,  and  he  taught  her 
to  talk  stylish  like  the  teacher  says  I  must, 
only  I  can't  remember.  Mr.  Derry  uster 
love  to  come  to  our  house  and  play  with  us 
kids.  He  got  a  swell  teacher  for  Amarilly 
and  she  learnt  lots.  She  got  us  to  be  a 
snydikit,  only  I  don't  say  it  right,  and  we 
took  our  savings  and  bought  the  alley  house. 
Then  we  sold  it  and  bought  our  farm. 
Amarilly  felt  bad  to  live  in  the  country,  so 
Mr.  Derry  sent  her  to  a  swell  college  where 
it  costs  heaps  to  go  and  she  has  grand  clothes. 
Mrs.  St.  John  picks  them  out.  Mr.  Derry 
has  been  in  Paris  three  years.  Amarilly 's 
goin'  to  graduate  a  year  from  June.  That's 
[13] 


•       AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

all  about  her  except  that  when  the  Boarder 
married  Lily  Rose,  Amarilly  lent  her  the  lace 
waist  and  they  found  a  note  in  the  sleeve 
which  should  have  been  in  the  surplus  and 
it  straightened  out  a  lovers'  quarrel  so 
Mr.  St.  John  and  Miss  King  could  get 
married. 

"Flamingus  is  next.  He's  kind  of  bossy. 
Milt  is  a  good  worker,  but  awful  stingy. 
Gus  is  a  peach.  He  built  a  cowhouse  in  the 
alley  and  a  cow  got  off  a  train  and  walked 
right  into  it  —  the  cowhouse,  I  mean,  so 
Ma  named  her  Cowslip  and  she  started  Gus 
in  the  dairy  business.  Bobby's  a  lot  of  fun 
and  he  learns  quick  like  Amarilly.  Bud's 
grand.  He  sings  beautiful,  or  did,  and  a 
bishop  found  it  out  and  he  made  good  money 
singing  in  the  choir.  His  voice  is  changing 
and  it's  awful  croaky.  There's  nothing  to 
tell  about  me  except  that  I  eat  a  lot,  but 
Ma  says  it's  because  I'm  growin'  fast.  Ma 
makes  excuses  for  everyone.  I  talk  a  lot, 
but  so  did  Amarilly,  and  after  she  went  away 
I  had  to  talk  for  both  of  us." 

Courville  had  perceived  early  in  the  recital 
of  the  annals  of  his  nearest  neighbors  that 
he  might  as  well  try  to  check  Niagara  as  to 
[14] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

halt  Cory  until  she  had  got  their  "story" 
out  of  her  system. 

"You  have  a  good  memory,"  he  com- 
mented. 

"Oh,  Lily  Rose  has  told  it  to  me  over  and 
over.  Lily  Rose  loves  stories  and  she  loves 
Amarilly  and  she's  dyin*  to  know  what's 
goin'  to  happen  to  her.  She  says  it's  as 
excitin'  as  continued  stories,  only  you  have 
to  wait  so  long." 

"I  wonder,  too,"  thought  Courville,  "what 
effect  four  years  of  college  environment  will 
have  on  Cory's  sister.  I  fear  the  young 
artist  wasn't  wise,  unless  —  he  intends  to 
marry  her." 

"I  wish,"  sighed  Cory,  "that  I  could 
have  a  story,  too." 

"You  can  have.  Let  me  see,  when  I 
build  the  house  and  move  down,  you  can 
help  me  *  settle.'  Then  we'll  have  tea  parties 
and  picnics." 

"That  will  be  grand!  Have  you  a  large 
family?" 

"None  at  all.  I  am  alone  in  the  world 
save  for  a  housekeeper  who  housekeeps  too 
clean  for  comfort." 

"I  should  think  a  tidy  house,  real  tidy, 
[15] 


AMAEJLLY  IN  LOVE 

would  be  lonesome.  But  here  we  are,  to 
the  store  where  we  trade. " 

"I  see  there's  a  soda  fountain  next  door. 
We'll  go  in  and  sample  their  goods." 

"My!  I'm  glad  you  are  goin'  to  be  our 
neighbor !" 

"So  am  I.  But  don't  you  have  to  tie 
Doxology?" 

"Standing  is  his  long  suit.  He's  too  lazy 
to  even  kick  the  flies  off." 


[16] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  II 

'TMIE  little  white  calf  was  of  constitution 
JL  so  delicate  that  she  needed  much  coax- 
ing before  she  would  respond  to  Lily  Rose's 
determined  efforts  to  prolong  her  existence. 
She  did  not  take  kindly  to  her  fodder,  but 
turned  her  head  mournfully  and  persistently 
away  from  her  rations.  Day  by  day  she 
continued  to  pine  until  Lily  Rose  bade  the 
boys  fence  off  a  little  patch  of  the  orchard 
and  build  a  pen  therein.  Here  the  little 
white  calf  was  installed,  fed  upon  warm 
milk  and  coddled  until  she  became  a  sturdy, 
agile  and  sportive  thing  of  veal. 

One  day  Flamingus  came  briskly  into  the 
kitchen. 

"Jed  Chalker  is  out  here,  and  he  wants  to 
buy  Surplus,"  he  announced  generally,  though 
with  eyes  turned  in  the  direction  of  Lily  Rose. 

Lily  Rose  looked  off  upon  fields  of  stirring 
green,  fertile  in  their  promise  of  upcoming 
things.  The  fate  of  Surplus  wavered  for  a 
moment. 

[17] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"'Tain't  in  natur  for  calves  to  stay  calves," 
remarked  the  Boarder  casually.  "She'd  hev 
to  go  some  time,  and  Jed's  got  a  good  barn." 

Thus  encouraged,  Lily  Rose  gave  her  con- 
sent to  the  sale,  but  when  Jed  Chalker  drove 
up  to  the  orchard  with  a  penned  wagon,  and 
the  Jenkins  men-folks  assembled  to  lend  a 
helping  hand,  she  went  around  the  house 
that  she  might  not  witness  the  passing  of 
the  little  white  calf. 

"Why,  Lily  Rose!"  expostulated  Mrs. 
Jenkins,  "I  do  believe  you  are  cryin' !" 

"I  can't  help  it.  I've  fed  her  and  took 
care  of  her  ever  sence  she  was  born.  When 
there  wa'nt  none  of  you  around,  I've  been 
out  and  curried  her  so  she  would  look  nice. 
It's  most  like  sellin'  Ceely." 

"Lily  Rose,  how  you  talk!  If  you  feel 
that  way  about  it,  I'll  jest  go  and  call  the 
old  sale  off." 

"No,"  declared  Lily  Rose  firmly,  "I've 
got  to  learn  to  be  commonsensible,  as  Amarilly 
says,  if  I'm  a  goin'  to  be  a  good  farm  wife." 

"One  does  git  to  thinkin'   a  hull  lot  of 

dumb  critters.     It  used  to  go  agin  me   to 

eat  the  hens  I  had  helped  to  grow  up  from 

chicks,  but  I  am  gittin'  hen-hardened  now." 

[18] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

With  this  reflection  Mrs.  Jenkins  passed 
on  around  the  house.  In  a  moment  she 
returned. 

"That  Surplus  is  orful  contrary.  She's  jest 
bound  she  won't  go  in  the  wagon." 

"She's  got  some  of  her  ma's  old  sportin' 
Texas  spirit  croppin'  out,"  said  Bobby,  com- 
ing up  to  them.  "They  want  a  pail  of  milk, 
ma,  to  coax  her  into  the  wagon." 

Mrs.  Jenkins  procured  the  desired  bait  and 
then  went  with  Bobby  to  the  scene  of  action. 
She  came  back  to  make  report. 

"It  was  Gus  what  thought  of  that  milk 
business,"  she  said  proudly.  "He's  in  the 
wagon  now  a-holdin'  out  the  pail." 

Another  round  trip  brought  the  informa- 
tion : 

"She's  in,  and  they 're  off!" 

Lily  Rose  had  listened  to  these  bulletins 
with  a  lively  interest,  despite  her  unwilling- 
ness to  be  an  eye  witness  to  the  transaction. 
Flamingus  now  appeared  on  the  scene. 

"Here,  Lily  Rose,"  he  said,  handing  her 
twelve  dollars,  for  by  common  consent  the 
calf  money  was  always  her  share  of  the  profits. 

"I've  got  twelve  dollars  yet  from  the  last 
one,"  she  remarked  proudly. 
[19] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"What  you  savin'  up  for?"  asked  Milton 
facetiously.  "Goin*  to  buy  a  piano  or  send 
Ceely  to  college?" 

"I'll  tell  you  the  next  time  we  sit  at  table." 

The  family  followed  the  custom  set  by 
Amarilly  of  imparting  information  only  when 
they  were  assembled  en  masse. 

"Saves  time  and  breath,"  she  had  declared. 

Cory  stole  surreptitiously  into  the  dining 
room  and  set  the  clock  ahead.  Mrs.  Jenkins 
whipped  up  a  "hit  and  miss"  dinner,  to  which 
all  hands  responded  with  alacrity. 

"Out  with  it,  Lily  Rose,"  said  the  Boarder, 
poising  his  spoon  above  the  stew.  "It  must 
be  something  ornamental  'stead  of  useful, 
you've  kep'  so  still  about  it." 

"It's  both,"  she  replied.  "I  am  goin'  to 
put  in  a  telerphone." 

After  making  this  electrifying  announce- 
ment, Lily  Rose  looked  positively  reckless 
and  wholly  defiant  of  the  consequences  of 
such  a  rash  proposition. 

In  his  heart  of  hearts  each  and  every 
Jenkins,  as  well  as  the  Boarder,  had  long 
desired  to  be  connected  with  the  neighborhood 
in  this  wonderful  way,  but  each  had  feared 
to  be  the  one  to  make  such  deviation  from 
[20] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

the  economic,  plodding  path  of  thrift  they 
had  marked  out,  so  they  were  glad  to  throw 
the  responsibility  of  such  indulgence  on  to 
Lily  Rose's  slender  shoulders. 

"You're  sure  goin*  to  blow  yourself,"  said 
Flamingus,  after  the  first  shock  of  surprise 
and  delight  had  passed.  "I'll  go  and  see 
Solomon  Saunders  about  layin'  the  wires 
right  after  dinner." 

"I  wanted  to  spend  it  for  something," 
explained  Lily  Rose,  "that  all  of  us  could 
enjoy  and  use.  Flammy  can  talk  to  Almy 
between  times  when  he  ain't  settin'  up  with 
her.  Gus  needs  it  in  his  business,  and," 
she  said  with  an  appealing  look  at  her  hus- 
band, "you  know  when  you  go  to  town, 
you'll  like  to  call  up  and  hear  me  and  little 
Ceely  talk." 

"You  bet  you,  I  will !"  he  declared. 

: "Twill  keep  us  from  gittin'  sick,"  proph- 
esied Mrs.  Jenkins,  "to  know  we  kin  halloa 
to  a  doctor  handy  like." 

"Most  of  all,"  further  explained  Lily  Rose, 
"I  want  it  for  Amarilly,  so  when  she's  home 
this  summer,  she  won't  feel  as  if  she  was  a 
mile  past  the  jumpin'-off  place,  like  she 
allers  seems  to  when  she's  here." 
[21] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Yes,"  ruminated  Mrs.  Jenkins  aloud, 
"Amarilly  acts  like  she  was  skeert  of  the 
country." 

"No  more  to  hum  here  than  a  fish  would 
be  in  a  hot-house,"  declared  the  Boarder, 
"but  mebby  the  telerphone  will  help  out 
some." 

"You  make  me  tired  !  Always  Amarilly  !" 
growled  Milton.  "Nuthin's  ever  done  or 
bought  around  this  place  without  it's  goin* 
to  be  pie  for  Amarilly.  We'll  hev  to  be 
buyin'  an  auto  for  her  next  thing,  I  suppose." 

"  Now  listen  here  ! "  cried  Gus  hotly.  "  It's 
the  way^it's  always  going  to  be,  too.  Where'd 
we  be,  I'd  like  to  know,  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
Amarilly?  Back  in  Clothes-line  Alley  with 
Ma  taking  in  washings  and  us  boys  doin' 
odd  jobs.  Gee!  I'd  like  to  buy  her  an 
auto  and  everything  else  she  ought  to  have." 

"Here,  too!"  chimed  in  Bud  and  Bobby. 

"Oh,  fade  away,  Milt !"  advised  Flamingus. 

Under  the  avalanche  of  disapproval  hurled 
at  him,  Milton  faded.  . 

"I'm  jest  a  leetle  mite  anxious  about 
Amarilly's  comin'  this  time,"  said  Mrs.  Jen- 
kins to  Lily  Rose  when  they  were  washing 
the  dishes,  the  task  that  above  all  others 
[22] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

seems  to  beget  confidence  between  the  co- 
workers.  "You  see  she's  made  us  such 
snap-shot  visits  before,  but  now  she  won't 
hev  no  goin'  back  to  school  to  look  forwards 
to.  She'll  be  here  to  stay  till  she  knows 
what  she's  a-goin'  to  do,  and  it's  likely  to 
be  dull  for  her." 

"Don't  you  worry.  Leave  it  to  Amarilly 
to  make  herself  to  hum  and  find  the  best  in 
any  old  place  she  hits,"  said  Lily  Rose 
confidently.  "She'll  keep  us  from  saggin', 
too." 

"It  don't  seem  possible  that  her  four  years 
to  school  is  up,"  continued  Mrs.  Jenkins 
reminiscently.  "We've  saw  so  little  of  her. 
She'd  jest  got  nicely  settled  here  in  her  first 
long  vacation  when  that  Ogilvie  gal's  ma 
wrote  for  her  to  go  to  the  mountains  with 
her  folks  and  learn  her  dull  gal  some  alge- 
bray,  so  she  wouldn't  be  to  the  foot  of  her 
class.  Then  the  next  year  she  jest  stopped 
off  a  week  each  way  goin'  to  that  ranch  with 
her  chum  Brendy.  And  last  summer  she 
took  that  crazy  idee  to  stay  in  town  and 
take  a  typewritin*  and  business  course.  As 
if  she'd  ever  use  it !  —  with  all  her  grand 
learnin'." 

[23] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Amarilly'll  use  everything  she  learns,'* 
said  Lily  Rose. 

"She  don't  seem  to  know  yet  what  she's 
a-goin*  to  do.  She  knows  so  much,  I  sup- 
pose it'll  be  hard  fer  her  to  tell  what  to 
choose." 

"I  wish,"  began  Lily  Rose  wistfully,  "that 
she  would  —  " 

She  was  interrupted  in  the  utterance  of 
her  best  wishes  for  Amarilly  by  the  sound 
of  wagon  wheels  and  a  stentorian  "Whoa, 
there!" 

"Oh!"  she  cried  wildly,  throwing  the  dish 
towel  into  space,  "here's  Sol  already  come  to 
lay  the  wires." 

The  all-absorbing  topic  of  thought  and 
conversation  at  the  farm  for  the  next  few 
days  was  Lily  Rose's  telephone.  What  form 
of  instrument  to  have  and  where  it  should 
hang  were  weighty  problems.  The  terms 
"receiver",  "transmitter",  and  "extension" 
were  used  ostentatiously  and  familiarly. 
When  the  amazing  innovation  was  at  last 
installed  and  they  were  bidden  to  "try  it 
out",  they  made  connections  with  awed 
countenances  and  muffled  voices. 

"WTiy,  I  can  hear  every  word  jest  as  plain 
[24] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

as  if  Almy  was  right  in  the  room,"  gasped 
Lily  Rose,  who  of  course  had  the  first  innings. 
"Here,  Flammy,  you  talk  to  her  afore  she 
gets  off  the  line." 

When  they  had  all  made  the  test,  they 
felt  that  hereafter  life  without  a  telephone 
would  not  be  worth  living. 

The  simplicity  of  the  system  in  use  by  the 
People's  Line  would  seem  blissful  to  the 
patrons  of  city  telephones.  There  was  no 
antagonistic  Central  to  hurl  those  exasperat- 
ing admonitions  of  "Line  busy"  and  "Louder, 
please."  The  mode  of  procedure  was  unpre- 
tentious but  effective.  The  telephone  register 
was  a  sheet  of  paper  on  which  were  inscribed 
the  calls:  "One  long,  Whittleseys " ;  "One 
long,  two  short,  Joneses";  "one  short,  two 
long,  and  a  short,  Chalkers";  and  so  on  in 
telegraphic  form. 

Every  signal  brought  the  Jenkins  family 
to  the  list  to  learn  who  might  be  holding 
converse.  At  the  first  sharp  ring,  they  sus- 
pended work  and  in  breathless  excitement 
counted  the  rings.  When  the  welcome  "five 
longs"  had  ceased,  they  all  made  for  the 
sitting-room  and  the  first  one  to  reach  the 
goal  was  the  lucky  listener. 
" 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

The  male  portion  of  the  household  couldn't 
seem  to  regard  the  telephone  otherwise  than 
in  the  light  of  a  diversion,  until  one  morning 
the  Boarder  announced  his  intention  of  going 
to  the  Whittlesey  farm,  which  was  two  miles 
distant. 

"I  shall  hev  to  hoof  it,"  he  remarked, 
"because  the  boys  are  working  the  team 
and  the  mare  has  gone  lame." 

"What  are  you  going  for?"  asked  Lily 
Rose. 

"This  is  one  of  the  days  Whittlesey  goes 
to  town,  and  I  want  him  to  buy  me  some 
barbed  wire." 

"WTiy  in  the  world  don't  you  phone  him 
to  get  it?"  asked  Lily  Rose. 

"  Well,  I  never !  Why  in  Sam  Hill  couldn't 
I  hev  thought  of  that !"  he  wondered. 

That  same  day  Mrs.  Jenkins  came  out  in 
the  summer  kitchen  where  Lily  Rose  was 
working  the  churn. 

"Lily  Rose,  the  clock  has  stopped!  First 
time  since  we  owned  it.  I  won't  know  what 
time  to  put  dinner  over." 

"Call  up  any  of  the  neighbors  on  the 
phone  and  ask  them  what  time  it  is,"  ad- 
vised Lily  Rose. 

[26] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Well,  it  does  beat  all,  Lily  Rose,  how 
handy  you  are  to  think  of  things." 

"Lily  Rose  uses  her  head,"  said  Bobby 
approvingly. 

Mrs.  Jenkins  allowed  that  this  was  so,  and 
thereafter  tried  to  do  likewise.  She  made 
the  discovery  that  she  could  quietly  take 
down  the  receiver  and  listen  to  the  con- 
versations on  the  line.  Thereupon  life  be- 
came for  her  one  fascinating  round  of  intense 
excitement.  If  she  were  in  the  kitchen  pre- 
paring supper,  or  at  the  trough  feeding  the 
hogs,  the  sound  of  the  bell  would  be  the 
signal  for  her  frantic  rush  to  the  telephone. 
Sometimes  it  was  a  lengthy  discussion  that 
she  came  in  on,  and  before  it  was  finished 
the  family  would  surround  her,  awaiting 
with  eager  curiosity  for  her  "heard  on  the 
line"  information.  Often  the  things  she 
caught  were  of  such  interest  that  she  issued 
bulletins  in  a  stage-whispered  aside  before 
the  conversation  was  finished. 

The  Jenkins  farm  was  on  a  cross-road  and 
rather  remote  from  neighbors.  They  only 
went  to  town  when  necessity  demanded  and 
they  did  not  have  time  to  mingle  in  the  social 
life  of  the  district,  so  they  remained  in  bliss- 
[27] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

ful  though  unprofitable  ignorance  of  much 
that  took  place.  By  telephonic  means  Mrs. 
Jenkins  now  found  herself  quite  in  touch  with 
neighborhood  round  robins. 

One  evening  there  seemed  to  be  an  unusual 
amount  of  telephoning  and  Mrs.  Jenkins  was 
"right  there  with  both  ears",  as  Bobby  ex- 
pressed it. 

"I've  lost  my  thimble,"  she  said,  as  she 
was  preparing  to  go  upstairs  for  the  night. 

"Well,  Ma,"  said  Flamingus  grimly,  "I 
guess  it's  the  only  thing  you  have  lost  this 
evening." 

"Can  you  do  that?"  Jerry  Pryne  had 
gravely  asked  when  he  came  in  one  day  and 
saw  Mrs.  Jenkins  listening  at  the  telephone. 

"You  see  me  doin'  it,  don't  you?" 

"I  mean,  have  you  the  right  to  do  it?" 

"Same  right  as  you  have  to  read  a  postal 
card,"  she  retorted,  and  Jerry  was  silenced 
though  not  convinced. 

"That  phone's  goin'  to  be  the  spilin'  of 
Ma,"  Milton  complained  to  the  Boarder. 
"She's  getting  so  gossipy  and  full  of  the 
neighbors'  consarns,  she  lets  go  of  everything 
to  spell  out  that  phone  talk.  She  gets  'em 
going  and  coming." 

[28] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Oh,  well,"  defended  the  Boarder,  "she'll 
git  tired  of  it  after  the  newness  wears  off. 
It's  the  way  with  everything.  I'm  glad  if 
yer  ma's  gittin'  pleasure  outen  it.  She  has 
had  mighty  few  pleasures  and  thar's  no  next 
door  talk  for  her  like  thar  was  back  in  the 
alley." 

But  Mrs.  Jenkins  was  getting  something 
out  of  the  telephone  besides  pleasure.  She 
was  learning  to  see  herself  and  hers  as  others 
saw  them  —  getting  a  line  on  their  market 
value.  There  were  many  things  she  heard 
in  her  phoning  hours  that  she  did  not  repeat. 
The  gist  of  the  neighborhood  appraisal  boiled 
down  was,  that  the  "Jenkinses  were  good- 
hearted,  clever  folks,  but  awful  simple ;  hard- 
working, but  slow  to  catch  on." 

"Lily  Rose,"  she  said  suddenly  one  day  as 
she  quietly  put  up  the  receiver,  "sometimes 
I  guess  mebby  it  pays  to  see  what's  goin'  on 
in  places  besides  hum.  We  all  work  so  hard 
we  don't  git  time  to  go  to  town,  or  read  the 
papers,  or  mix  in  the  country  doin's.  Mebby 
if  we  hed,  we'd  hev  got  along  further  in  these 
four  years." 

"Got  along  further!"  echoed  Lily  Rose. 
"Why  I  think  we've  done  wonders." 
[29] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  dunno,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins  doubtfully. 

Lily  Rose  began  an  inventory  of  their 
prosperity. 

"Place  paid  for.  Flam  goin'  to  marry  the 
smartest  gal  in  the  county  in  a  year  or  two, 
and  her  pa  to  start  them  off  with  a  forty, 
and  cattle,  and  hogs.  Gus  with  a  good  milk 
route,  and  the  others  all  to  school." 

"I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins,  "but  the 
place  can't  make  no  more  than  it's  a-doin' 
now,  and  there's  Bud's  voice  not  bringin' 
in  anything,  cause  it's  changin' ;  and  he'll 
hev  to  study  when  it  does  git  changed. 
Bobby  sot  on  goin'  to  college.  Iry,  Co  and 
Ceely  to  eddicate  and  us  a-growin'  older." 

"We're  a-doin'  the  best  we  can,"  said 
Lily  Rose  hopefully,  "and  mebby  a  ten- 
strike'll  come  along.  Anyway,  I  guess  it's 
better  to  git  rich  slow  than  to  git  poor  fast." 

"Ten-strikes  don't  come.  You've  got  to 
git  out  after  them.  I  hope  Amarilly  won't 
be  ditched  afore  she  gits  here  this  time. 
She'll  ketch  on  as  slick  as  silk.  Amarilly 
was  always  the  go-getter  one  of  the  family." 

"Ketch  on  to  what?"  asked  Lily  Rose. 

"Oh,  things,"  replied  Mrs.  Jenkins  vaguely 
and  yet  mysteriously. 

[30] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  III 

PARIS  sulked  under  sodden  skies.     There 
had    been    many    days    of    sluggish, 
persistent  rain,   and  the  succeeding  wraith- 
like  vapor  was  now  slowly  changing  into  a 
dense  fog. 

Derry  Phillips,  coming  from  his  bedroom 
into  the  studio,  looked  disconsolately  out 
of  the  window.  The  buildings  showed 
vaguely  and  deceptively  through  the  mist 
like  spectral  sentinels,  and,  remembering  what 
a  June  day  at  home  would  be,  he  felt  the  little 
tug  that  sometimes  strains  at  the  home- 
strings  of  even  the  self-exiled. 

He  turned  dismally  from  his  opaque  out- 
look and  instantly  his  depression  lifted,  for 
on  the  table  he  saw  two  letters,  American 
postmarked.  One  was  in  an  envelope  of  the 
hue  he  had  sought  so  vainly  in  the  sky;  the 
other  matched  the  weather.  He  decided  to 
read  the  latter  first. 

"It  will  be  a  curtain-raiser  to  Amarilly's," 
he  thought,  as  he  broke  the  seal  across  Colette 
Meredith's  return  address : 
[31] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

" Dear  Mr.  Phillips: 

"At  last  I  am  going  to  comply  with  your  request 
to  give  you  a  detailed  description  of  Snydikit 
Farm  (I  never  could  get  away  from  Go's  name 
for  it)  and  its  many  inmates. 

"Recently  I  accepted  an  invitation  to  spend  a 
couple  of  days  there.  It  may  sound  trite  to  say  I 
arrived  there  safely,  but  had  you  seen  me  in  the 
act  of  arriving,  you  would  recognize  the  importance 
of  the  information. 

"When  I  stepped  from  the  train  at  Haleboro, 
the  little  village  nearest  the  farm,  there  were 
drawn  up  in  waiting  a  big,  yellow  bus  and  a 
rickety  top  buggy  attached  to  a  mild-eyed  animal, 
a  sort  of  cartoon  of  a  horse  which  hadn't  entirely 
dispensed  with  his  winter  clothes,  for  his  brown 
hide  was  visible  in  spots.  I  had  a  fleeting,  blurred 
vision  of  the  Boarder  behind  the  dashboard.  I 
said  the  top  buggy  was  drawn  up.  I  was  in  error. 
It  was  dashing  round  in  circles.  I  ran  alongside 
and  became  a  tangent  to  the  concentrics,  endeavor- 
ing to  throw  in  my  bag.  I  muffed  it  in  the  first 
round,  but  made  good  in  the  fifth.  I  then  re- 
turned to  the  train  for  my  smtcase  which  was 
packed  with  various  things  for  Mrs.  Jenkins 
and  the  children.  It  was  in  the  act  of  being 
dumped  and  was  the  sole  piece  of  luggage  for  this 
stop. 

"I  claimed  it  then  and  there,  in  spite  of  the 
[32] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

objections  of  the  baggage  master,  who  doubtless 
wanted  to  improve  this  rare  opportunity  for  check- 
ing and  releasing.  I  asked  one  of  the  idle  by- 
standers to  lend  a  hand  with  the  heavy  suitcase 
and  we  conveyed  it  to  the  carryall,  which  was  still 
revolving  on  its  axis,  or  axles.  We  shot  it  deftly 
in  the  back  (of  the  buggy,  I  mean),  and  I  then 
achieved  entree,  right  side  up,  at  the  Boarder's 
left.  We  ceased  to  be  a  merry-go-round  and 
went  forward.  The  train  halted  fully  two  minutes 
over  the  scheduled  time  to  allow  the  interested 
passengers  to  view  this  local  act. 

"We  dashed  across  the  village  bridge  faster,  I 
am  sure,  than  the  legal  limit  which,  so  a  sign  read, 
was  to  be  gauged  by  the  pace  of  one  'A  Walk/ 
whoever  he  may  be,  and  tore  up  the  main  and 
only  street  of  the  village,  everyone  shying  out  of 
our  Mazeppa-like  way.  The  Boarder  sawed  at 
the  reins  and  jerked  the  horse  from  left  to  right 
as  if  he  were  switching  trains. 

"Once  outside  the  limits,  the  cyclonic  animal 
came  down  to  the  funereal  pace  expressed  by  his 
name,  Doxology,  and  had  to  be  prodded  all  the 
rest  of  the  way. 

"When  we  had  cleared  the  bridge,  conversation 
was  possible,  and  the  Boarder  told  me  that 
Doxology  always  acted  in  this  fashion.  Either 
the  rare  event  of  his  'coming  to  town*  in  this  style 
is  his  equine  idea  of  a  'time',  or  else,  as  I  strongly 
[33] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

suspect,  the  Boarder  is  desirous  of  convincing  the 
guileless  townspeople  that  he  owns  a  trotter,  and 
so  works  him  up  to  town  speed. 

"We  devoted  our  time  to  reminiscences  and 
then  we  came  up  to  the  present  and  delved  into  the 
future  of  the  Jenkinses  et  al. 

"When  we  left  the  main  highway,  we  turned  into 
a  cross-road  that  seemed  to  take  us  away  from  the 
haunts  of  man.  But  this  cross-road  proved  a 
Broadway  compared  to  the  lane  into  which  we 
finally  turned  and  which  he  informed  me  was 
'our  road.'  He  designated  it  also  as  a  cross-road, 
but  it  didn't  seem  to  cross  anything  or  lead  any- 
where. It  was  quite  evident  that  no  one  had 
ever  heretofore  attempted  to  cross  it,  for  there 
were  no  wheel  tracks  in  the  tall  grass  that  were 
visible  to  the  unmagnified  eye. 

"This  mode  of  transit  was  new  to  me,  for  on 
former  visits  I  had  motored  out  via  the  interurban 
route. 

"Snydikit  is  a  tidy  little  farm  with  nothing 
lying  around  loose.  I  suppose  naturally  the 
Boarder's  mechanical  instinct  would  keep  things 
from  getting  hingeless.  The  transplanting  of  the 
Jenkins  family  back  to  the  soil  has  worked  ad- 
vantageously, simply  changing  the  activity  of 
alleys  for  the  bravado  of  barns.  But  there  are 
some  plants,  you  know,  that  are  too  deeply  rooted 
to  endure  transplanting,  and  I  see  plainly  that  our 
[34] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Amarilly  will  never  flourish  in  the  green  pastures 
to  which  she  is  returning  next  week. 

"As  to  the  family  :  Mrs.  Jenkins  is  —  just  Mrs. 
Jenkins.  Flamingus  is  ameliorating  under  the 
love  of  'Almy',  a  sensible  girl  who  teaches  in 
District  No.  15  and  is  endeavoring  to  transpose 
the  verbs  of  her  suitor's  vernacular.  Milton  is 
as  unchangeable  as  —  vinegar,  and  the  love  of  lucre 
predominates,  but  he  is  honest  —  super-honest. 
Gus  clings  to  cows  and  the  dairy  business.  I  sug- 
gested to  him  that  he  open  an  ice-cream  place 
in  the  village,  and  he  has  quite  frozen  to  the  idea. 
Bobby  is  becoming  studious  and  is  inclined  to 
have  college  aspirations.  Poor  Bud  is  in  the 
transition  state  as  to  voice,  but  is  patiently  await- 
ing developments.  Cory  as  of  old  is  a  bon  vivant. 
Iry!  Well,  Iry  has  outclassed  Achilles,  for  his 
vulnerable  spot  hasn't  been  located  as  yet.  He 
has  fallen  in  the  river  five  times,  —  once  he  beat 
the  proverbial  stunt  of  coming  to  the  surface  and 
out  by  four  uprisings  —  has  taken  a  header  in  the 
soft  soap  barrel  twice,  chased  by  a  festive  bull 
ditto,  caught  in  an  agricultural  implement  thrice, 
fallen  in  the  cistern  countless  times,  and  —  well,  the 
only  thing  he  hasn't  fallen  into  is  the  bee-hive. 
Still  he  liveth  and  lispeth.  The  Boarder  is  a 
tower  of  strength  and  practicality.  Lily  Rose  is 
as  sweet  as  ever  and  has  acquired  an  obsession  for 
light  literature  induced  and  fostered  by  a  box  of 
[35] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

books  left  in  Snydikit-atticby  the  former  occupants. 
Little  Lucelia,  so  named  after  the  Boarder's 
mother,  but  shortened  to  '  Ceely '  for  everyday  use, 
you've  never  seen,  which  makes  me  realize  how 
time  has  flown. 

"They  don't  *  neighbor'  except  with  Almy's 
family  and  with  a  very  mysterious  person  whom 
I  have  never  met.  He  is  commonly  referred  to 
as  the  'Man  at  the  Corners',  though  his  name  is 
James  Courville.  He  came  here  a  stranger  about 
a  year  ago,  bought  an  abandoned  farm  called  the 
'Corners',  because  it  is  at  a  point  where  there 
should  be  corners.  He  has  transformed  it  into  a 
beautiful  fancy  farm  and  lives  there  alone  with 
his  help.  He  is  an  oracle  to  the  neighborhood, 
and  Cory  is  a  devotee  at  his  shrine.  Lily  Rose 
thinks  he  has  been  'crossed. '  Everything  in  their 
vicinity  seems  to  be  'crossed'  one  way  or  another. 

"When  are  you  going  to  return  that  flying  visit 
John  and  I  made  you  in  Paris?  He  will  never 
again,  I  fear,  be  able  to  take  a  vacation  long 
enough  for  a  repetition  of  the  visit. 

"Most  cordially  yours, 

"Colette  Meredith." 

Derry's  eyes  danced  with  glee  throughout 

the  reading  of  this  letter.     Then  he  opened 

expectantly  the  blue-tinted  envelope  which 

bore  a  later  date  than  the  one  from  Colette. 

[36] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

" — Miles  from  Anywhere. 

"June  — th. 
"Have  lost  all  sense  of  time 

and  place. 
"Dear  Mr.  Derry: 

"At  last  I  am  one  of  the  'also  graduated.' 
I  am  afraid  you  will  think  I  made  a  rather  poor 
showing  at  the  finish,  but  teachers  are  terribly 
inquisitive,  and  they  weren't  a  bit  shy  about 
asking  questions.  They  might  have  been  more 
economical  and  saved  some  of  them  for  next  year. 
I  was  surprised  and  pleased  to  learn  that  I  really 
squeezed  through  everything. 

"When  I  wrote  to  you  in  my  first  year  of  my 
aspirations,  you  advised  me  to  'ease  off  and  not 
turn  out  a  blue  stocking.'  You  see  how  needless 
was  your  alarm. 

"My  intentions  were  honorable  and  I  studied 
very  hard.  Some  days  I  really  made  almost 
brilliant  recitations,  and  then  on  other  days  I'd 
fail  outrageously  on  some  simple  subject.  After 
one  of  these  failures,  a  frigid-featured  teacher 
looked  at  me  for  a  miserable  minute  and  then 
said  in  cutting  tone:  'You  know  so  much,  Miss 
Jenkins,  one  wonders,  you  don't  know  more'! 
Somehow  I  instinctively  feel  that  her  word-picture 
is  correct  —  as  to  the  last  part,  I  mean.  Maybe  it 
is  because  I  wasn't  to  the  college  born  and  didn't 
get  the  book-worm  habit  early  in  life. 
[37] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"There  was  one  Amazon  of  a  girl  that  we  all 
envied.  If  there  had  been  anything  higher  than 
their  highest  rating,  she  would  have  been  it. 
We  called  her  'one  hundred  plus.'  Brenda,  my 
ranch-girl  friend,  said  that  the  Amazon  might 
have  brains,  but  that  she  and  I  could  console 
ourselves  by  remembering  that  we  had  wits.  I 
told  her  wits  might  win  once  in  a  while,  but  when 
you  have  to  sharpen  them  so  often,  they  get 
whittled  to  pieces. 

"When  I  arrived  here,  they  were  all  in  the  door- 
yard,  and,  well  —  they  looked  good  to  me,  but  oh, 
Mr.  Deny,  I  couldn't  help  wishing  for  a  single 
selfish  moment  that  they  were  all  lined  up  in  little 
old  Poverty  Flat,  alias  Clothes-line  Alley !  It  was 
the  time  when  dusk  dims  into  dark.  There  were 
cow-bells  and  other  doleful  sounds,  but  they  were 
soon  drowned  in  my  sea  of  welcomes,  led  by  Ma. 
(How  that  word  scandalized  some  of  the  girls  at 
college!  But  it  seems  to  belong  to  her  and  no 
other  substitute  will  do.) 

"I  talked  even  myself  tired  during  the  supper- 
time  and  early  evening  and  then  I  went  up  to  my 
room  —  the  best  room  in  the  house  —  that  they 
had  fitted  up  for  me.  It  is  a  gabled  room  with 
swing-out  windows  to  the  east  and  to  the  west, 
so  if  the  spirit  moves  me,  I  can  look  on  the  sun 
rising  or  setting,  with  breezes  across  lots.  Lily 
Rose  had  put  beautifully  laundered  curtains  to 
[38] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

these  windows  and  the  Boarder  had  built  in 
shelves  for  my  books.  Each  one  of  the  family 
contributed  his  and  her  mite,  and  you  know  what 
a  little  bit  added  to  a  little  bit  more  will  do.  I'd 
love  the  house  if  it  were  set  anywhere  but  in  the 
midst  of  this  awful  stillness.  It  would  have  been 
lonesome  at  college  but  for  the  sweet,  if  subdued, 
sounds  of  revelry  by  night  —  the  call  to  arms  after 
lights  were  out,  the  sputtering  of  alcoholic  flames 
from  chafing-dish,  and  the  alarm  signals  from 
sentries. 

"You  have  never  lived  in  the  country,  Mr. 
Deny,  and  so  you  cannot  know  what  awfulness 
there  is  in  the  weird  shriek  of  something  about 
the  midnight  hour  that  they  say  is  the  call  of  the 
wild  loon.  I  think  it  is  the  lost  soul  of  a 
murderer.  Some  other  nameless  creature  told  its 
troubles  in  tragic  tone,  and  a  mourning  dove 
sympathized,  and  all  the  poplars  shivered  in 
chorus. 

"Before  the  break  of  day,  earlier  even  than  the 
hour  at  which  I  used  to  rise  to  come  to  'red  up' 
your  studio,  I  heard  the  family  astir.  Up  the 
flue  came  the  voices  of  my  mother,  brothers, 
sister,  the  Boarder,  and  Lily  Rose  talking  me  over. 

"I  listened. 

"Lily  Rose  was  saying  emphatically:    'I  told 
you,  Milt,  she  wouldn't  be  stuck  up  and  that  we 
wouldn't  have  to  make  company  of  her.' 
[39] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"'She  is  folksy,  jest  the  way  she  uster  be,'  was 
the  Boarder's  comment. 

"'She's  jest  our  Amarilly,'  said  Ma. 

"That  was  a  good  enough  verdict  for  me.  I 
went  to  sleep  again  and  was  awakened  by  a  terrible 
din  of  farmyard  talk;  cackles,  crows,  gobbles, 
quacks,  and  a  funny,  little  three-note  scale  which 
is  rendered  by  young  turkeys.  There  was  one 
particular  rooster  that  seemed  to  have  something 
terrible  on  his  mind.  These  were  maddening 
sounds,  but  later  came  that  lonesome  one  —  the 
twitter  of  dawn  birds.  You  told  me  you  had  heard 
it  coming  home,  but  I  believe  it  sounds  different 
when  you  are  awakened  by  it." 

"Second  day  after. 

"  I  am  once  more  one  of  the  family.  They  were 
all  just  a  bit  stand-offish  with  me  at  first  and  we 
sat  down  to  meals  in  state  in  the  sitting-room 
(there  is  no  dining-room)  with  a  white  cloth 
covering  the  table.  But  to-day  I  insisted  on 
recognition  and  we  gathered  comfortably  and 
normally  around  the  kitchen  table,  which  was 
adorned  with  a  gay,  red  cloth,  handy  to  the  hot 
cakes  served  direct  from  cook-stove  to  consumer. 
I  like  this  style  for  family  use  and  it  makes  me 
feel  in  the  fold. 

"The  gratitude  and  appreciation  for  all  you've 
done  for  me,  Mr.  Derry,  is  in  me,  but  I  don't 
[40] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

know  the  right  words  for  it  to  come  out  in.  You 
say  everyone  wants  to  spend  his  money  on  what 
best  pleases  him,  and  that  it  was  your  pleasure 
to  spend  some  on  me.  The  money  you  spent  was 
the  smallest  part  of  the  deed.  It  was  the  kindly 
spirit  that  prompted  the  deed  that  appeals  to 
me. 

"I  haven't  made  returns  on  your  investment, 
but  I  am  going  to  some  day.  I've  tried  to  find 
out  these  last  four  years  what  I  can  be  besides  a 
graduate,  but  I  haven't  succeeded  as  yet.  I've 
gone  over  the  'female  helps'  and  I  cannot  find 
the  answer.  The  Boarder  says  the  way  to  find 
anything  is  to  look  where  no  one  else  does,  so 
maybe  I  might  meet  luck  if  I  searched  the  'Male 
Helps.'  You  won't  misunderstand  me,  Mr.  Derry, 
when  I  tell  you  that  my  allowance  must  be  stopped 
from  now  on.  You  have  given  me  the  means  for 
which  I  must  find  the  end  and  the  finding  mustn't 
be  made  too  easy  for  me. 

"The  first  thing  I  want  to  do  is  to  get  them  in  a 
little  better  shape  here.  While  they  make  a  good 
living,  the  profits  are  scant  because  the  country 
air  has  given  the  children  such  keen  appetites 
that  there  is  not  much  provender  left  to  sell. 
Ma  has  heard  something  that  promises  hope  for 
the  future;  if  it  materializes  I  will  write  you 
about  it. 

"I  would  awfully  like  to  see  you,  Mr.  Derry, 
[41] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

but  I  can't  let  you  send  the  money  for  me  to  come 
over  for  a  year  of  foreign  travel  as  you  advise. 
I  mustn't  take  the  time  or  the  money. 

"It  must  be  very  late,  for  there  is  the  call  of  that 
lunatic  loon,  so,  good-night,  Mr.  Derry,   though 
the  sun  must  be  shining  over  there  with  you. 
"Sincerely, 

"Amarilly." 


[42] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  IV 

WHEN  the  new  telephone  was  proudly 
pointed  out  to  Amarilly,  she  was 
but  mildly  and  politely  interested.  Secretly, 
she  thought  telephones  were  more  of  a  nui- 
sance than  a  convenience. 

"People  you  don't  want  to  talk  to  are 
always  ringing  you  up,"  she  said,  "and  the 
ones  you  want  to  talk  to  are  never  successful 
in  getting  you." 

When  her  mother  had  confided  to  her  some 
of  the  conversations  she  had  heard  over  the 
telephone,  however,  her  interest  was  at  once 
enlisted. 

"Thar's  a  nigger  in  the  woodpile  some- 
whar's,  Amarilly,  and  I've  been  waitin'  fer 
you  to  come  and  help  me  skeer  him  out." 

One  morning  there  was  a  little  family 
flurry,  due  to  a  call  from  the  Man  at  the 
Corners. 

"Where's  Amarilly  and  Ma?'7  asked  Cory 
excitedly. 

"You  might  know  where  Ma  is/'  growled 
[43] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Milton.  "She's  still  got  telephonitis  and  her 
ear's  glued  to  the  phone.  I  guess  Amarilly 
is  there,  too." 

"Come  right  in  the  settin'-room  and  meet 
my  sister,"  said  Cory  proudly. 

Mrs.  Jenkins  stood  at  the  telephone  as 
statuesque  as  a  setter  at  the  scent  of  game, 
while  Amarilly  was  gazing  supinely  out  the 
window. 

Courville  felt  a  swift,  elating  desire  to  obtain 
a  front  view  of  the  small  shapely  head  with 
its  wealth  of  shining  red-brown  hair. 

"Amarilly,"  announced  Cory  in  a  tone 
trembling  with  veneration,  "the  Man  at  the 
Corners." 

This  appellation  brought  a  little  quirk  to 
Amarilly's  mouth,  but  her  eyes  remained 
steady  and  serene  as  she  acknowledged  the 
introduction.  Courville  was  well  aware  that 
the  look  of  intense  interest  upon  Mrs.  Jenkins' 
countenance  was  not  due  to  his  august  pres- 
ence, but  to  something  she  was  getting  from 
the  wires,  for  she  made  a  quick  signal  for 
silence  and  resumed  her  former  "at  atten- 
tion" pose. 

"In  my  letters  from  home,"  said  Amarilly, 
as  her  mother  finally  hung  up  the  receiver, 
[44] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"they  always  referred  to  you  in  the  way  Cory 
introduced  you  — " 

"It  seems  to  be  the  only  name  by  which  I 
am  known  about  here/'  he  explained,  "and 
I  have  come  to  like  it,  but  for  purposes  of 
identification  I  will  own  up  to  'James  L. 
Courville.'" 

"Amarilly,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins  excitedly, 
"I  hearn  something  over  that  phone  then. 
Jest  what  we  expected.  I  know  you  said 
not  to  speak  of  it,  but  can't  I  tell  him  ?" 

Courville  met  the  penetrating  gaze  of  the 
young  girl.  He  had  never  felt  his  inner  self 
so  searched  as  it  was  during  these  few  seconds. 
And  yet  Amarilly  studied  him  simply  to 
know  if  she  could  trust  his  judgment  and 
confidence. 

"I  sat  for  my  photograph  once,"  he  thought, 
"but  they  didn't  keep  me  waiting  as  long  as 
this." 

"They  tell  me,"  said  Amarilly,  "that  you 
are  a  friend  to  everyone  in  the  neighborhood. 
We  need  one  very  much  now,  or,  at  least, 
an  adviser;  so  I  hope  we,  too,  can  come  to 
'the  Man  at  the  Corners.'" 

A  swift  change  of  expression  came  over  his 
thin,  brown  face. 

[45] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"You  may,  indeed,  Miss  Jenkins,"  he  replied 
gravely. 

"You  see,  while  my  mother  was  listening 
over  the  phone,  she  heard  some  people  say 
we  were  'easy  marks',  and  the  last  ones  to 
*  catch  on.'  Finally  she  learned  that  some- 
thing, she  couldn't  make  out  what,  was  about 
to  happen  that  might  be  to  our  advantage, 
so  she  took  to  listening  in  the  hope  of  finding 
out  what  the  great  mystery  was.  I  think 
she  has  heard  the  climax  just  now.  I  — " 

"Yes,"  interrupted  her  mother  eagerly, 
"when  I  took  down  the  receiver  a  man  by 
the  name  of  Hoovers  who  lives  acrost  the 
river  and  ain't  friendly  to  nobody  was  talkin'. 
He's  a  short  and  three  longs,  but  he'll  be  all 
shorts  when  I  git  through  with  him!  He 
was  talkin'  to  his  son-in-law's  brother,  Lon 
Bilderback,  who  lives  to  Piker's  Gap  and  he 
says :  *  Who  owns  that  piece  of  land  acrost 
the  river  from  Jenkinses  cornfield?'  'The 
Jenkinses  owns  it  and  durned  poor  land  it  is,' 
says  Hoover.  'Ain't  worth  the  sod  that's  on 
it.'  'Don't  you  think  it,'  says  Bilderback. 
'I  heard  the  surveyors  for  the  new  railroad 
talking  and  they  want  to  cut  right  through 
that  land.'  'I  swan,'  comes  back  Hoover. 
[46] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

'If  luck  ain't  struck  them  Jenkinses!'  'I'm 
thinking  it's  struck  me/  says  Bilderback. 
'Lizzie  says  those  folks  never  know  anything 
till  it's  dropped  on  them  hard.  They  prob- 
ably don't  even  know  there's  goin'  to  be  a 
railroad.  I'm  not  going  to  let  the  grass  grow 
under  my  feet.  I'll  jest  bike  down  there 
after  dinner  and  offer  them  a  fair  price  for  it 
and  sell  for  a  fancy  figure  to  the  new  road. 
Some  little  speculator,  what?'  'Go  to  it,' 
says  Hoover,  'and  be  sure  to  do  business 
with  Mrs.  Jenkins,  'cause  she's  the  softest 
mark  of  the  lot.'" 

Mrs.  Jenkins  fairly  gasped  as  she  repeated 
this  reflection  on  her  mentality. 

"Wait,"  she  exclaimed,  "till  I  give  that 
Bilderback  a  piece  of  my  mind  !" 

"What  we  should  like  to  ask  your  advice 
about,  Mr.  Courville,"  explained  Amarilly, 
"is  the  price  we  ought  to  make  to  the  railroad 
people,  so  they,  too,  won't  find  us  'easy 
marks.'"  ' 

"It  is  quite  a  coincidence,"  replied  Cour- 
ville, "that  I  was  here  on  just  that  matter.  I 
have  been  away  and  on  my  return  learned  of 
the  proposed  new  road.  I  thought  it  quite 
likely  they  would  want  right  of  way  through 
[47] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

your  land,  so  I  figured  out  what  you  should 
receive  for  it,  and  took  the  liberty  of  offering 
my  advice." 

He  handed  her  a  piece  of  paper  with  some 
figuring  thereon,  and  she  excitedly  read  aloud 
the  final  amount. 

"We  should  never  have  ventured  to  expect 
that  much,"  she  said.  "And  it  was  awfully 
kind  in  you  to  think  of  Ma." 

"I  wish  we  could  do  something  for  you" 
said  Mrs.  Jenkins  wistfully. 

"You  can.  Let  me  stay  and  be  a  mouse 
in  the  corner  when  you  have  your  interview 
with  Mr.  Bilderback."  - 

"Of  course  you  may,"  agreed  Amarilly. 
"Stay  and  have  dinner  with  us.  When 
Hoover's  son-in-law's  brother  comes,  you 
can  slip  into  that  little  hallway  and  leave  the 
door  ajar,  and  then  he  won't  know  who  ad- 
vised us  as  to  the  price." 

"I  wish  we  were  going  to  have  a  better 
dinner,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins.  "Cory's  been 
to  your  house  so  often  to  eat,  and  you've 
never  once  set  at  table  with  us." 

"We  are  going  to  have  a  better  dinner," 
said  Amarilly.     "I'll  add  some  things  to  the 
meal  Lily  Rose  has  planned." 
[48] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  don't  want  to  make  you  any  extra 
work,"  he  said  doubtfully. 

"You  can  help  with  the  extra  work,  if 
you  will.": 

"Why,  Amarilly!"  remonstrated  Mrs. 
Jenkins.  v. 

"I  never  was  afraid  of  anyone,  you  know, 
Ma,  unless  it  was  Mr.  St.  John,  just  a  wee 
bit.  That  was  because  he  was  so  good.". 

"Oh,  come — "  began  Courville  in  objec- 
tion. 

"His  goodness  is  a  different  kind  from 
yours,"  she  explained. 

She  called  in  her  forces  and  set  them  to 
work. 

"You  can  set  the  table,  Co." 

"In  the  settin'-room ? "  asked  Cory. 

"Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins. 

"No,"  objected  Amarilly.  "You  see  we 
want  the  sitting-room  right  after  dinner. 
We'll  eat  on  the  side  porch  that  Bobby 
screened  in.  You  might  help  Bud  take  the 
table  out,  Mr.  Courville." 

When  Courville  returned  from  this  duty, 
Amarilly  was  humming  softly  to  herself  as 
she  mixed  flour  and  butter  into  close  rela- 
tions. The  soft  breeze  coming  through  the 
[49] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

window  had  loosened  the  luxuriant  locks  of 
her  hair ;  her  cheeks  were  peach  tinted  and 
her  eyes  were  dancing  in  the  thought  of  the 
good  news  they  had  just  learned. 

"  Domes  tic  science  idealized!"  thought 
Courville. 

"Please,  what  are  you  making?"  he  asked 
after  a  moment. 

"Shortcake,  for  dessert." 

He  seated  himself  on  the  window  sill  and 
watched  her  as  she  plunged  her  hands  anew 
into  the  soft,  white,  clinging  dough  which  she 
transferred  from  the  mixing  bowl  to  the  board 
and  «began  to  roll  into  piecrust  thickness. 
He  liked  the  little  air  of  unconcern  she  showed 
at  the  intrusion  of  a  stranger.  He  had 
speculated  a  great  deal  about  her  in  the  past 
year,  and  now  he  found  that  he  had  got  to 
rearrange  his  prejudgment. 

"Is  that  the  way  you  do  it?"  he  asked 
interestedly,  as  she  thinned  the  crust  and 
deftly  fitted  it  to  the  tins,  trimming 
off  the  superfluous  edges.  "What's  going 
inside?" 

"Wild  strawberries.     I  promised  to  make 
Iry  and  Ceely  each  a  little  individual  one. 
I  will  bake  another  for  you." 
[50] 


Is  that  the  way  you  do  it?  "  he  asked  interestedly.    Page  50. 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  feel  a  boy  again." 

^' That's  the  way  to  feel.  Now,  while 
these  are  baking,  we'll  go  out  and  plunder 
Lily  Rose's  pet  flower  bed." 

At  the  dinner  table  Amarilly  informed  them 
that  they  were  to  have  a  matinee,  and  that 
the  leading  man,  the  villain,  was  a  stranger. 
There  was  a  Jenkins'  clamor  for  details  as  to 
the  identity  of  the  villain  and  the  rest  of  the 
cast. 

"It's  to  be  dialogue,"  she  explained,  "be- 
tween the  villain  and  Ma,  and  you  must  all 
remember  that  not  one  of  you  is  to  take  part. 
You  are  merely  to  be  the  audience  until  the 
villain  is  disposed  of  and  then  you  can  speak 
any  piece  you  like.  There  will  be  souvenirs 
given  away." 

"Something  to  eat?"  asked  Cory  expect- 
antly. 

"It  will  seem  like  old  times,"  said  Bobby, 
"to  be  having  shows.  Remember,  Amarilly, 
how  you  used  to  come  home  from  the  theater 
and  teach  us  how  to  act?" 

Courville  had  never  before  been  brought 

into  such  intimate  relations  with  his  nearest 

neighbors,  and  he  was  a  delighted  and  amused 

listener   to   their   chatter,   shrewdly   sensing, 

[511 


AMARELLY  IN  LOVE 

however,  that  there  was  one  hostile  presence 
in  the  person  of  Lily  Rose. 

When,  they  adjourned  to  the  sitting-room, 
the  Jenkins  family  were  all  on  the  tiptoe  of 
expectancy.  A  knock  at  the  door  was  the 
signal  for  Amarilly's  directions. 

"That's  the  curtain  call.  Get  into  your 
private  box,  please,  Mr.  Courville,  and  draw 
the  curtains.  Enter  villain,  left  center." 

The  Boarder  opened  the  door  and  a  wiry, 
wrinkled  man,  whose  gimlet  eyes  seemed 
trying  each  to  look  at  the  other,  came  briskly 
into  the  room. 

"Howdy!"  he  said,  including  the  entire 
assembly  in  his  greeting.  "I  just  dropped 
in  on  a  little  business,  Mrs.  Jenkins.  Do  you 
own  that  piece  of  land  across  the  river  from 
your  cornfield?" 

"Yes;  that  is  my  sheer  of  the  place,"  said 
Mrs.  Jenkins  glibly. 

Milton's  mouth  opened  for  a  decided  pro- 
test against  the  allotted  ownership  of  the  land 
in  question,  but  a  warning  boot-thrust  at  his 
shins,  administered  by  Flamingus,  painfully 
reminded  him  of  Amarilly's  admonition. 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  sell  the  land?" 
continued  Bilderback. 

[52] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  guess  she  would,  if  anyone  was  fool 
enough  to  buy  it,"  interposed  Cory,  forgetting 
the  coaching. 

The  prospective  buyer  laughed  easily .  *  *  The 
soil  is  mighty  poor  —  milked  dry  —  but  I 
thought  maybe  I  could  rent  it  for  a  camping 
place  to  hunters  and  fishing  parties.  I'll 
give  you  a  fair  price  for  it,  Mrs.  Jenkins." 

"What  do  you  call  a  fair  price  ?"  demanded 
Mrs.  Jenkins  warily. 

He  named  a  sum  which  caused  the  Boarder 
to  interrupt  the  play. 

"You've  not  been  long  in  these  parts,"  he 
said.  "We  wouldn't  go  fer  to  take  advantage 
of  no  one  in  that  way.  'Twould  be  robbery." 

"Mr.  Bilderback,"  declared  Mrs.  Jenkins, 
ignoring  the  Boarder  and  looking  the  villain 
straight  in  the  eye,  "you'll  have  to  multiply 
that  'ere  'fair  price'  a  good  many  times  afore 
I  listen  to  you." 

"Mrs.  Jenkins!"  began  the  Boarder,  but 
paused  at  a  significant  signal  in  the  shape  of  a 
crescendo  cough  from  Amarilly. 

"You  know,  Mrs.  Jenkins,  that  that  land 
isn't  good  for  anything." 

"Ain't  it?"  she  retorted.  "I  guess  the 
railroad  company  will  think  it  good  enough  to 
[53] 


AMAEILLY  IN  LOVE 

lay  rails  on  next  spring.  You  air  a  stranger, 
but  you  can't  take  us  in.  I  'spose  someone 
told  you  that  the  Jenkins  were  easy.  You 
jest  go  back  and  tell  'em  to  guess  onct  more, 
and  when  you  hear  the  locomotive  whistle, 
get  off  the  track." 

The  villain  rose,  utterly  routed  by  this 
taunt,  and  with  no  further  parley,  hiked  and 
biked  for  Piker's  Gap. 

Courville  emerged  from  his  "box"  and  gave 
belated  applause. 

"How  did  you  get  next,  Ma?"  clamored 
the  chorus. 

"Over  the  phone.  So,  Milt,  you  won't  be 
so  sassy  next  time  you  see  me  listening.  Of 
course  the  Man  to  the  Corners  here  told  me 
what  the  land  would  be  wuth  to  the  railroad 
company." 

"You  certainly  give  Bilderback  his'n," 
said  the  Boarder  gleefully.  "You  allers 
was  right  there^  with  the  ammernition, 
Mrs.  Jenkins,  when  it  come  to  the  firing 
line." 

Milton  was  already  figuring  on  what  his 
share  of  the  returns  would  be. 

"Divide  by  nine  instead  of  ten,  Milt," 
directed  Amarilly,  looking  over  his  shoulder. 
[54] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"You  have  all  done  the  work  here,  and  I 
haven't  helped  to  earn  a  dividend." 

There  was  a  general  protest,  but  they  knew 
of  old  that  it  was  useless  to  combat  Amarilly's 
decisions. 

"Ma  and  Lily  Rose  ought  to  have  the  lion's 
share,"  she  declared.  "If  it  hadn't  been  for 
what  Ma  heard,  and  if  Lily  Rose  hadn't 
bought  the  telephone  — " 

"It  was  little  Surplus  what  paid  for  the 
phone,"  said  Lily  Rose. 

"I  won't  take  a  cent  of  the  money,  unless 
you  have  your  share,  Amarilly,"  said  Bud. 
"You  need  it  'cause  you  ain't  going  to  take 
any  more  from  Mr.  Deny." 

Amarilly  flushed  under  a  quick  glance  from 
Courville. 

"Oh,  I  am  going  to  make  me  a  fortune 
soon,"  she  said  lightly.  "Ma,  you  don't 
look  as  happy  as  you  ought." 

"I  was  a  thinkin',  that  I  jest  know  as  how 
Iry'll  git  run  over  by  the  furst  injine  that 
comes  along  our  land." 

"It  won't  hurt  him  any,"  assured  Amarilly, 

"but  it'll  be  some  months  before  the  cars 

are  running,  and  by  that  time  maybe  Iry 

will  learn  to  *  stop,  look,  and  listen.'     We'll 

[55] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

have  railroad  drills  and  put  him  through  the 
paces." 

When  Courville  reluctantly  took  his  de- 
parture, he  asked  Amarilly  to  walk  down  to 
the  river  and  view  the  right  of  way  for  the 
road. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said  when  they  were 
walking  through  the  fields,  "I  have  an  idea 
we  are  going  to  be  good  friends  as  well  as 
neighbors.  I  must  warn  you  that  I  am  often 
an  unhappy,  moody  sort  of  person,  and  when 
I  am  that  way,  please  remember  that  I  don't 
want  to  be  disagreeable,  but  that  I  am  vainly 
struggling  to  forget  a  wretched  past.  I  think 
you  will  help  me,  perhaps,  to  a  better  angle  of 
vision.  You  seem  cheerful  and  optimistic." 

"I  think  the  members  of  a  large  family  like 
ours,"  she  replied,  "are  apt  to  be  cheerful. 
You  see  we  never  get  a  chance  to  reflect, 
because  some  one  is  always  talking." 

"Cory,  for  instance,"  he  said,  with  a 
reminiscent  smile,  as  he  proceeded  to  tell 
her  of  his  first  meeting  with  her  little  sister. 

After  that,  the  conversation  went  on  easily 

and  pleasantly,  so  that  it  was  quite  late  in  the 

afternoon    when    Amarilly    returned    to    the 

house.     She  found  Cory  in  tears  and  it  was 

[56] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

some  time  before  she  could  prevail  upon  her 
to  tell  her  troubles. 

"I  knowed  him  first,"  said  Cory  finally 
between  sobs,  "first  of  anyone,  and  it  ain't 
fair  for  you  to  have  everyone.  I've  knowed 
him  a  whole  year  and  he's  f ergot  me  already." 

The  little  girl's  grief  was  so  genuine  that 
Amarilly  overcame  her  surprise  and  amuse- 
ment, and  quickly  came  to  her  comfort. 

"Why,  Cory,  if  you've  known  him  for  a 
whole  year,  you've  naturally  talked  of  me 
to  him,  and  so  of  course  he  would  be  inter- 
ested in  meeting  your  sister.  He  hasn't 
forgotten  you,  because  the  last  thing  he  said 
to  me  was  that  you  and  I  were  to  spend  to- 
morrow afternoon  at  the  Corners  and  that  he 
and  you  would  show  me  over  the  place,  and 
that  you  would  help  him  serve  tea  in  the 
summer  house." 

The  promise  of  a  rainbow  crept  into  the 
little  tear-shower. 

"He'll  larn  to  like  you  best,  though," 
she  mourned,  "'cause  you  talk  stylish  —  like 
him." 

"Now,  Cory,  didn't  Mr.  Derry  like  me 
when  I  spoke  much  more  incorrectly  than 
you  do?" 

[57] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Did  you?"  asked  Cory  hopefully. 

"  I  did ;  and  there  is  no  reason  why  you 
can't  learn  to  speak  the  way  Mr.  Courville 
does.  I'll  teach  you  as  Mr.  Derry  did  me. 
He  gave  me  two  words  a  day,  and  when 
you  forget,  you  must  think  of  Mr.  Courville 
and  try  again." 


158] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  V 

A  MARILLY  was  awakened  early  one  morn- 
<L\.  ing  by  the  sound  of  voices  in  that  low- 
ered, confidential  key  that  carries  so  effec- 
tively, and  arouses  such  intense  interest. 

"  Yes ;  the  Man  at  the  Corners  would  be 
a  fine  mate  for  her,"  her  mother  was  saying. 
"He  is  steady  and  moneyfied.  I  b'lieve 
she's  gittin'  to  keer  for  him,  too." 

"  *  Moneyfied,' "  pondered  Amarilly. 
"That's  a  new  word  to  me,  but  it  does  seem 
to  spell  cash  in  bigger  letters  than  any  of  its 
synonyms." 

"I  hed  so  set  my  heart  on  her  and  Mr. 
Deny,"  sighed  Lily  Rose,  after  a  moment. 

"Oh,  no,"  denied  Mrs.  Jenkins.  "Ama- 
rilly looks  on  him  like  she  does  the  boys. 
She  let  me  read  the  letters  he's  wrote  her 
sence  she's  been  to  school,  and  there  ain't 
no  hint  of  nothin'  like  that." 

"'Cause  he  thinks  of  her  as  a  kid,  like  she 
was  when  he  left.     If  he  could  jest  see  her 
now  —  growed  so  handsome  !" 
[59] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"He  won't  see  her,  'cause  she's  too  sot 
against  lettin'  him  pay  her  way  acrost,  and 
he  ain't  a-comin  home  fer  years,  Mrs.  St. 
John  says." 

The  voices  grew  fainter.  Amarilly  sat 
upright  in  bed,  her  cheeks  crimson. 

"Oh,  dear!"  she  thought  in  dismay,  "the 
thing  that  most  appeals  to  me  in  the  descrip- 
tions of  Heaven  is  that  there  is  no  marriage 
or  giving  in  marriage.  Everyone  —  the  girls 
at  school,  Mrs.  St.  John  and  all  of  them  here, 
except  Ma,  who  has  some  sense,  is  trying  to 
build  up  a  romance  and  wish  me  on  Mr. 
Deny  just  because  he  was  generous  and 
kind  to  me  when  I  was  a  little  scrub-girl. 
I  am  not  going  to  be  sentimental  over  Mr. 
Courville  or  anyone,  because  I  must  turn  all 
my  time,  thought,  and  energy  to  trying  to  do 
something.  I  see  plainly  that  country  life 
is  not  conducive  to  ambition.  Unless  you 
watch  out,  you  get  to  walking  with  your  head 
down  like  the  cattle.  I  can  feel  grass  growing 
under  my  feet  now  after  only  two  weeks. 
Thanks  to  the  railroad,  I  won't  have  to  worry 
about  the  future  for  Ma  and  the  children,  so 
I  can  be  up  and  doing  for  myself.  Before  the 
sun  sets,  I  shall  decide  on  some  plan.  Better 
[60] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

a  mis-step  than  a  standstill.  I'm  glad  I 
overheard  them.  Other  folks'  opinions  make 
good  whetstones  to  rub  your  dulness  on." 

After  breakfast  Amarilly  hastened  through 
her  share  of  the  housework,  and  then  started 
out  in  search  of  a  place  where  she  could  be 
assured  of  undisturbed  solitude  while  she 
concentrated  on  a  plan  for  self-support. 

"There's  a  bull  in  the  meadow,  snakes  by 
the  river,  crawly  things  in  the  woods,  folks 
in  the  house.  In  the  orchard  I'd  be  in  plain 
sight,  but  I  know  what  I  can  do.  I  can  climb 
an  apple  tree.  No  one  ever  looks  higher  than 
their  head  in  the  country,  unless  it's  to  watch 
for  rain-signs,  and  there's  no  fear  for  rain 
to-day." 

She  went  into  the  orchard  and  was  selecting 
the  most  climbable  tree,  when  Cory  called  to 
her  that  the  "mail  man"  had  come  and 
brought  her  two  letters. 

"Hurry  up,  Amarilly!"  she  urged.  "We 
want  you  to  know  Jerry  Pryne." 

"I  think  I  do  know  you,"  said  Amarilly, 
to  the  carrier  on  R.F.D.  Number  Six.  "  Every 
letter  from  home  mentioned  you." 

"And  I  am  well  acquainted  with  your 
handwriting,"  he  returned.  "You  must 
[61] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

know,  Miss  Jenkins,  that  this  place  is  the 
end  of  my  route,  and  it's  been  like  the  end  of 
the  rainbow  to  me,  but  with  a  pot  of  honey 
instead  of  a  pot  of  gold  in  waiting.  Some- 
times it's  been  a  glass  of  milk,  a  bunch  of 
flowers,  a  little  luncheon  —  always  something, 
but  this  is  my  last  trip  on  the  mail  route." 

He  interrupted  the  chorus  of  consternation 
that  came  from  as  many  of  the  family  as  had 
assembled. 

"I'll  see  more  of  you  because  I'll  be  your 
next  neighbor.  Mr.  Courville  has  made  me 
manager  of  his  place,  and  I'm  to  have  a  little 
cottage  and  ten  acres  of  my  own  down  on  the 
river  road.  He's  a  prince,  that  man." 

"He  is,"  agreed  Cory  solemnly. 

When  the  carrier  had  driven  away,  Amarilly 
inspected  her  letters. 

"One  is  from  Mrs.  St.  John,  and  the  other's 
from  Brenda,  so  she  hasn't  started  for  home 
yet." 

The  postscript  to  Colette's  letter  rubbed  her 
sensitive  spot  the  wrong  way  and  ruffled  her 
slender  brows  into  a  semi-frown  as  she  read  : 

"I  wrote  Deny  Phillips  that  the  Man  at 
the  Corners  seemed  to  be  taking  his  place 
in  the  hearts  of  the  Snydikits." 
[62] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  should  have  known  better,"  thought 
Amarilly,  "than  to  have  written  her  so  fully 
about  Mr.  Courville." 

She  had  read  but  a  few  lines  of  Brenda's 
letter  when  she  gave  a  startled  exclamation. 

"What  is  it,  Amarilly?"  begged  the  on- 
gazing  family,  as  she  continued  reading  at 
lightning  speed. 

"Brenda  and  five  other  girls  I  knew  at 
college  are  going  abroad  for  a  six  months' 
tour.  Helen  Wayne's  aunt  is  to  chaperon 
them,  but  they  want  me  to  go  along  to  look 
after  the  luggage,  make  hotel  reservations, 
study  time-tables,  pay  the  bills,  etc.  They 
will  all  chip  in  and  pay  my  expenses." 

"Well,  Amarilly  Jenkins,  thar's  no  use 
talking.  You  was  born  under  a  lucky  star," 
exclaimed  her  mother. 

"You  bet  she  was!"  declared  Bobby. 
"Under  more  than  one  lucky  star." 

"  Mos'  likely  'twas  under  the  Big  Dipper," 
speculated  Cory. 

"Can  you  do  all  those  things,  Amarilly?" 
asked  Milton  wonderingly. 

"Surely  I  can.     I  have  a  gift  for  time- 
tables  and   I  know  how  to  beat  the  taxi- 
drivers  on  time-keeping." 
[63] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Will  you  go  to  Paris?"  asked  Lily  Rose 
excitedly. 

"Yes;  we  go  there  first  and  then  to  Spain 
and  Italy." 

"When  do  you  start?"  asked  Bud. 

"In  a  week." 

"Oh,  Amarilly,  you  come  and  go  like  fire- 
flies," said  Mrs.  Jenkins  ruefully,  "but  I 
wouldn't  say  a  mite  of  a  word  to  keep  you." 

"And  you'll  see  Mr.  Deny!"  exclaimed 
Lily  Rose  ecstatically. 

"Yes,"  replied  Amarilly.  "Only  to-day  I 
was  thinking  that  it  would  be  years  before  I 
could  go  abroad,  and  here  I  am,  starting  right 
at  the  top.  For  six  months  I  will  be  earning 
only  my  expenses,  but  it  will  brush  some  of 
the  cobwebs  off  my  brains  —  I  mean  wits  — 
and  may  lead  to  my  finding  what  I  can  do." 

"Now,  listen  here,  Amarilly,"  said  the 
Boarder,  when  he  was  told  of  the  coming 
event,  "you'll  be  wanting  spending  money 
and  you'll  need  fixings.  You've  got — " 

"No,"  anticipated  Amarilly  firmly.  "I 
have  plenty  of  money.  You  see  Mr.  Derry 
sent  Mrs.  St.  John  a  big  check  to  spend  for 
graduating  things  for  me,  and  when  I  told 
her  that  was  to  be  the  last  check  I  should  take 
[64] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

from  him,  Mr.  St.  John  wouldn't  let  her  spend 
it  all  on  clothes,  but  had  her  save  out  some  to 
tide  me  over  while  I  was  getting  located." 

Later  Courville  came  over,  as  he  had 
dropped  into  the  habit  of  doing  every  day 
since  he  first  met  Amarilly. 

"I  am  going  to  take  a  post-graduate  course," 
Amarilly  told  him. 

"Oh,  have  you  decided  on  a  profession?" 
he  asked,  smiling. 

"  Not  a  profession ;  an  occupation,  and 
only  a  temporary  one.  Of  all  the  pursuits, 
listed  and  unlisted,  this  is  the  only  one  that 
never  occurred  to  me.  A  courier!" 

"It  may  easily  lead  to  other  things,"  he  said 
reflectively,  when  she  had  furnished  the  details. 

"He  doesn't  know  it,"  thought  Lily  Rose 
exultantly,  "  but  it  will  lead  to  Mr.  Derry." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Courville  wistfully,  "that 
you  have  such  a  fine  opportunity  to  travel, 
but  I  shall  miss  you.  I  had  looked  forward  to 
teaching  you  this  summer  to  love  the  country." 

"I  do  love  it  —  in  a  sense,"  she  replied. 
"If  I  didn't,  your  paradise  of  a  place  would 
teach  me  the  beauty  of  nature ;  but  you  see 
it's  a  case  of  Malaga  grapes  and  I  prefer  the 
raisins  of  Smyrna." 

[65] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  Log  of  a  Courier. 
First  night  out  (Aboard  ship). 

BRENDA  must  never  know  that  I  am 
doing  this.  She  says  only  two  classes 
of  people  have  the  diary  habit  —  children, 
and  old  maids  who  live  uneventful  lives. 
But  I'll  probably  never  have  anything  so 
big  as  crossing  the  ocean  happen  to  me 
again,  so  I  must  put  it  on  record. 

For  the  last  busy  week,  I  have  been  a 
Bureau  of  Misinformation,  and  my  first  lull 
of  leisure  came  when  I  was  sure  that  the 
various  belongings  of  my  little  party  were 
deposited  in  their  staterooms.  Then  I  joined 
the  others  at  the  rail  who  were  looking  down 
in  final  farewell  upon  groups  of  friends. 

Of  course  there  was  no  one  on  the  pier  to 
"leave-take"  me,  so  I  picked  out  the  ones 
who  looked  the  most  interesting  and  appro- 
priated them  for  my  own,  bowing  and  waving 
to  them  unawares. 

[66] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

When  we  had  unpacked  we  made  a  tour  of 
inspection  of  the  ship.  It  was  a  maiden 
voyage  for  all  of  us  but  Brenda,  who  had 
crossed  twice  before.  She  has  mentioned 
this  so  frequently  that  we  call  her  "Old 
Salty"  and  "The  Veteran." 

She  got  even  with  me,  though,  for  she  met 
some  people  she  knew  and  introduced  me  as 
"Mrs.  Cook." 

When  the  steamer  mail  was  distributed 
I  knew  I  couldn't  carry  out  the  bluff  as  I 
had  done  in  farewells,  but  to  my  joy  and 
surprise  I  received  four  letters.  A  round 
robin  from  home,  instigated  by  Mr.  Cour- 
ville,  and  one  from  him.  The  others  were 
from  Mrs.  St.  John  and  one  of  my  teachers. 
Mr.  St.  John  sent  me  some  books. 

When  we  finally  came  out  to  locate  on 
deck,  the  waves  had  begun  a  little  game  of 
gay-go-up  and  gay-go-down,  so  we  sought  a 
sheltered  spot. 

"I  am  glad,  Brenda,"  said  Mrs.  Wayne 
presently,  with  a  brave  attempt  at  a  smile, 
"that  you  showed  me  around  while  I  was 
able  to  take  notice.  I  fear  my  vision  from 
now  on  will  be  bounded  by  the  walls  of  my 
stateroom." 

[67] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Don't  invite  forebodings  so  soon,"  en- 
couraged Brenda.  "You'll  get  used  to  it." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  get  used  to  it!" 
protested  Mrs.  Wayne  wanly. 

At  dinner  I  was  so  interested  in  watching 
the  passengers,  I  didn't  pay  much  attention 
to  what  I  was  eating. 

"Fifty-seven  varieties,"  murmured  Brenda, 
following  my  wandering  glances. 

"Look  them  all  over,  Amarilly,"  Helen 
warned  me.  "There  are  many  you  will  never 
see  again  on  this  voyage." 

"They  do  well  to  'eat,  drink  and  be 
merry,'"  sighed  Mrs.  Wayne,  "for  by  to- 
morrow they'll  think  they  are  going  to 
die." 

We  had  a  jolly  evening  with  all  kinds  of 
entertainments.  I  stole  away  earlier  than 
the  others  to  start  my  log.  I  was  almost 
caught  in  the  act  by  Brenda,  who  came  up 
to  see  why  I  had  left  them.  I  just  had  time 
to  slip  the  log  out  of  sight  and  pick  up  a 
magazine  which  I  opened  at  random. 

"You  must  have  found  something  very 
interesting  to  stay  cooped  up  here,"  she 
declared.  "What  is  it?" 

I  handed  her  the  magazine. 
[681 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

' 'What  I  know  about  logging,'  she  read. 
"Why,  Amarilly,  what  in  the  world  can  you 
find  in  logging  to  be  interesting?" 

The  coincidence  made  it  difficult  not  to 
laugh. 

"I  am  something  of  a  loggerhead,"  I  told 
her. 

Log  No.  2. 
Second  Night. 

When  I  awoke  this  morning  I  felt  like  the 
old  woman  in  Mother  Goose  —  "Oh  !  deary, 
deary  me,  this  is  none  of  I!"  But  Brenda 
established  my  identity  as  the  lucky  girl 
who  was  crossing  the  ocean,  bound  for 
France. 

"The  ship  seems  to  be  rolling  every  way 
but  the  right  one,"  I  remarked. 

"She  must  be  trying  to  reduce,"  she  said. 
"It  is  early,  but  don't  you  feel  a  longing  for 
more  air?" 

I  certainly  did ;  so  we  dressed  and  went 
out  on  deck.  The  wild  waves  were  saying  it, 
whatever  it  is,  very  emphatically. 

"You  never  saw  the  ocean  before,  did  you, 
Amarilly?" 

"Only  from  shore.  It  is  certainly  a  grand 
[69] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

sight;  but  after  all,  it  is  only  a  lot  of  sudsy 
water  going  up  and  down  like  an  elevator. 
It  makes  me  think  of  the  Subway  express  — 
doesn't  stop  between  times." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Brenda  with  a  little 
shudder,  "if  it  goes  one  inch  higher,  —  I'll 
—  die!  I  feel  as  if  someone  were  sitting 
astride  my  chest." 

"Oh,  Brenda,  and  it's  your  third  crossing  !" 

"It's  evidently  three  tunes  and  out  for  me. 
I  think  you'll  have  to  support  me  back  to  the 
berth." 

When  I  had  made  her  as  comfortable  as  I 
could,  it  seemed  to  be  time  for  the  others  to 
appear.  I  went  to  call  them  and  found 
them  all  in  the  state  in  which  I  had  left 
Brenda,  so  I  was  busy  rendering  first  and 
last  aid.  Then  Mrs.  Wayne  insisted  on  my 
going  out  for  a  little  deck  tramp. 

"We  must  have  one  of  our  party  able  to 
be  up  and  about,"  she  declared,  "so  you  do 
all  you  can  to  keep  in  good  condition." 

The  promenade  deck  was  entirely  deserted, 
quite  different  from  yesterday  when  the 
passengers  were  all  cruising  in  couples.  I 
had  felt  such  an  atom  among  them  —  such 
a  very  minute  atom ;  but  to-day  I  have  been 
[70] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

the  monarch  of  all  I  surveyed.  I  began  my 
walk,  or  stagger,  feeling  guilty  at  being  the 
sole  survivor  of  my  party.  It  seems  odd  to 
be  a  hermit  on  an  ocean  steamer. 

It  was  very  lonely,  though.  I  felt  like  the 
boy  on  the  burning  deck  until  I  saw  there 
was  one  other  who  hadn't  fled.  As  I  turned 
a  sharp  angle  I  sighted  a  man  ahead.  I 
trailed  after  him  Indian  fashion  for  a  while 
and  then  passed  him.  He  looked  at  me  in 
surprise  and  as  if  he  wanted  to  speak.  I 
felt  the  same  way,  probably  more  so.  Silence 
was  never  cultivated  in  our  family.  I  had 
not  dared  speak  to  the  few  green  and  gray- 
faced  women  lined  up  in  the  cabin  for  fear 
of  sympathetic  contagion. 

In  spite  of  Mrs.  Wayne's  course  of  coach- 
ing to  the  party  and  to  the  courier,  I  felt 
that  it  would  be  mere  affectation  to  observe 
conventions  under  these  conditions.  It  was 
as  if  we  were  alone  on  a  desert  island. 

I  slackened  my  pace  and  he  soon  over- 
took me.  Speech  came  mutually  and  spon- 
taneously. We  made  one  more  round  and 
then  sat  down  in  a  secluded  corner.  I  soon 
discovered  that  since  conversation  had  been 
my  object,  I  might  better  have  let  well 
[711 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

enough   alone,   for   I   scarcely   wedged   in   a 
word. 

He  was  a  very  ordinary  looking  man, 
quite  neutral  in  figure,  with  no  more  expres- 
sion than  a  piece  of  pussy  willow.  He  told 
me  that  his  name  was  J.  Perigreen  Lyle  and 
that  he  wrote  plays.  He  is  composing  one 
now  and  is  crossing  to  get  atmosphere. 
There  is  certainly  plenty  of  it  to  get  and 
his  play  should  be  breezy.  After  a  while 
I  returned  to  my  charges,  but  in  the  after- 
noon I  again  went  into  deck  training.  I 
was  joined  by  J.  P.  L.  and  he  rehearsed  to  me 
parts  of  the  play  he  had  in  contemplation. 
I  answered  back  in  stage  vernacular,  where- 
upon he  triumphantly  told  me  he  had  already 
guessed  I  was  an  actress.  He  said  it  was 
my  walk.  (The  ship's  roll  does  effect  one's 
gait.)  I  think  the  color  of  my  hair  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  his  surmise,  and  then  it 
occurred  to  me  he  might  think  I  was  crossing 
alone.  I  explained  that  I  was  a  college 
graduate  and  one  of  a  party  that  had  a 
perfectly  proper  chaperon  under  cover. 
There  was  a  slight  change  in  his  manner  then 
which  made  me  feel  like  reversing  and  explain- 
ing how  I  came  to  be  familiar  with  stage 
[72] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

matters.  However,  my  short  innings  at 
speech  were  interrupted,  as  he  again  began 
on  his  obsession. 

Last  Log. 

For  intervening  time,  ditto  the  second  log. 
The  days,  the  weather  and  J.  P.  L.  all  looked 
alike  to  me.  But  to-day  some  one  must 
have  oiled  the  waters,  or  else  they  were  all 
just  played  out  and  couldn't  rise  to  the  oc- 
casion. Passengers  came  out  of  their  state- 
rooms like  ants  from  a  hill.  It  seemed  good 
to  have  the  girls  around  with  me  once  more, 
and  I  told  them  I  wished  we  were  starting  all 
over  again,  but  Mrs.  Wayne  shuddered  and 
said  not  to  wish  anything  like  that  on  them. 

"Besides,"  said  Brenda,  when  we  had 
strayed  away  from  the  others  to  a  nice  little 
nook  off  the  general  thoroughfare,  "I  am 
dying  to  see  Mr.  Phillips.  I'd  rather  see 
him  than  all  the  sights  of  Paris.  Tell  me, 
Amarilly,  which  do  you  think  you  will  fall 
in  love  with,  Mr.  Phillips,  or  that  neighbor 
of  yours,  who  sent  you  the  steamer  letter?" 

Brenda,  like  so  many  of  the  girls  at  school, 
was  always  "turning  lightly  to  thoughts  of 
love." 

[73] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"One  is  a  dear  friend  and  the  other,  a  near 
neighbor,"  I  told  her,  "and  I  shall  be  too 
busy  to  think  about  falling  in  love." 

"It  doesn't  take  time,"  replied  Brenda. 

Shore  Log. 
Paris. 

I  had  no  more  time  that  last  day  on  board 
ship  to  finish  up  my  log.  Brenda  said  the 
only  interesting  thing  about  Cherbourg  would 
be  the  fact  that  we  took  the  train  from  there 
to  Paris,  but  when  we  landed,  Mr.  Deny 
was  awaiting  us.  I  had  expected  to  surprise 
him  in  Paris,  but  Colette  had  cabled  him, 
so  the  surprise  was  on  me.  He  took  my 
courier  duties  away  from  me  and  soon  had 
us  aboard  a  train  for  Paris.  En  route  the 
girls  simply  surrounded  him.  At  the  hotel 
he  drew  me  aside  for  a  moment. 

"See  here,  Amarilly,"  he  said,  "can't  you 
dismiss  Class  A?  We  have  four  years  to 
bridge  over.  They  talk  so  much,  so  trip- 
pingly and  so  —  together,  it's  quite  bewilder- 
ing. At  first  I  thought  it  was  a  college 
yell." 

I  told  him  how  they  had  been  shut  up  in 
their  staterooms  all  the  way  over  and  hadn't 
[741 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

had  a  word  with  a  man.  (They  didn't  count 
J.  Perigreen.) 

"Oh,  that's  it!  Well,  there's  my  very 
good  friend  Jules,  who  has  a  lot  of  artists 
on  his  list.  I'll  have  him  give  a  luncheon 
at  my  studio  to-morrow  for  them  and  see 
that  there's  a  man  each.  Do  you  think 
that  will  be  enough  to  satisfy  them  ?  Then 
you  and  I  can  slip  away  for  a  sight-seeing 
trip.  But  why  were  they  shut  up  in  their 
staterooms?  Was  it  as  rough  as  that?" 

"There  were  head  on  collisions  between 
the  going  and  coming  waves  all  the  way.  I 
was  afraid  they  might  charge  us  double 
fares  because  we  went  up  and  down  so  much 
we  really  covered  the  distance  twice  over." 

Just  then  Brenda  spied  us. 

"Mrs.  Wayne  says  we  shouldn't  monopolize 
you,  Mr.  Phillips,  but  you  see  it's  our  turn. 
Amarilly  had  the  whole  ship  and  a  man  all  to 
herself  coming  over.  If  they  had  had  a 
pedometer,  it  would  have  measured  one 
hundred  miles." 

"What  sort  of  a  man,  Amarilly?"  asked 
Mr.  Derry  quickly,  with  his  big  brother  air. 

"Nondescript,  with  a  nondescript  family 
back  home,  but  he  is  going  to  write  a  play 
[75] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

that  won't  be  nondescript.  It  will  be  a  big 
success  or  a  flat  failure." 

It  was  quite  late  when  we  dined.  Mr. 
Derry  went  home  at  what  he  called  an  early 
hour  so  that  we  might  feel  "fine  and  fancy" 
in  the  morning.  The  girls  were  enchanted 
at  the  prospect  of  a  luncheon  and  an  artist 
each. 

We  had  to  scramble  the  next  morning  to 
get  ready  for  luncheon,  as  we  overslept.  It 
seemed  like  old  times  to  eat  in  a  studio  and 
see  artists  again.  I  felt  as  if  I  ought  to  do 
the  serving. 

Immediately  after  luncheon  Mr.  Derry 
announced  that  he  was  going  to  take  me  for 
a  motor  excursion  and  show  me  around.  We 
rode  all  the  afternoon,  but  there  was  so 
much  to  talk  about,  he  forgot  to  point  out 
the  sights,  though  he  says  we  passed  them 
all;  so  I  just  have  a  kaleidoscopic  remem- 
brance of  broad  boulevards,  beautiful  parks 
and  buildings,  with  lovely  whiffs  of  air. 

Mr.  Derry  is  still  a  boy  —  no,  a  boyish 
man  —  and  his  eyes  are  just  as  dark  and 
laughing  as  ever.  He  is  one  of  the  few  who 
can  be  away  for  years  and  yet  make  you  feel 
you  had  seen  him  but  yesterday.  It's  a  nice 
[761 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

feeling.     We  went  back  to  the  studio  and 
then  — 

Brenda  came  to  my  room  just  now  with 
such  exciting  news  that  I  can  write  no  more 
to-night. 


[77] 


AMABILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  Jenkins  family  paused  in  their  gen- 
eral onslaught  upon  their  favorite  meal 
of  salt  pork,  jacketed  potatoes  and  milk 
gravy  to  listen  intently  to  the  sound  of 
wheels  and  a  well-known  voice  without. 
The  door  opened  and  Amarilly  walked  in. 

"  Amarilly  !  Forever  and  way  back  ! "  cried 
Mrs.  Jenkins. 

"No;  to  Paris  and  way  back/'  corrected 
Amarilly.  "I  feel  like  the  king  of  France 
and  ten  thousand  men." 

"Whatever  brought  you  back  so  quick?" 
asked  Mrs.  Jenkins.  "Didn't  you  get  on 
with  them  girls?" 

"I  bet  'twas  Mr.  Deny  sent  you  back," 
guessed  Lily  Rose. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  don't  know  ! " 
cried  Amarilly.  "Even  your  weekly  paper 
should  — " 

"Bobby's  goat  ate  up  last  week's  paper 
before  we  took  off  the  wrapper,"  explained 
[781 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Cory.     "Was  it  in  the  paper  why  you  came 
back?" 

"Yes;  though  they  didn't  put  it  just  that 
way.  Haven't  you  heard  anything  over  the 
telephone?" 

"Phone's  out  of  commission,"  informed 
Flamingus,  "and  we've  all  been  too  busy  to 
go  to  town,  and  Almy's  away." 

"Go  on,  and  tell  us  about  Paris,"  begged 
Bobby.  "I  want  to  hear  all  about  it." 

"You  won't  hear  much  about  it  from  me," 
replied  Amarilly.  "I  only  had  a  snapshot  of 
Paris.  We  were  glad  to  leave  while  the 
leaving  was  good." 

"The  plague,  or  some  of  them  furrin' 
diseases?"  asked  Mrs.  Jenkins  anxiously. 

"War!"  replied  Amarilly. 

This  exciting  news  quickly  turned  the 
interest  from  Amarilly  and  her  travels.  The 
Boarder  and  the  boys  devoured  the  head- 
lines of  the  papers  she  had  brought  with  her, 
and  then  she  gave  them  a  resume  of  the 
contents  of  previous  issues. 

"It  was  a  mercy  we  knowed  nothin'  about 
it,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins.  "We'd  hev  worried 
to  death  about  you.  But  tell  us  how  far 
you  got." 

[79] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Let  me  see.  I  wrote  you  a  letter  on 
board  ship  and  mailed  it  at  Cherbourg  and 
sent  you  a  postal  from  there  and  another 
from  Paris." 

"Yes;  and  you  said  you  was  a-goin'  to 
Mr.  Derry's  to  a  party." 

"I  went  there  and  for  a  ride  in  the  after- 
noon ;  but  that  very  night  the  bulletins  were 
so  alarming,  Mr.  Derry  said  we  mustn't  lose 
a  minute  in  starting  for  home.  He  took  us 
to  Calais,  and  we  crossed  a  choppy  channel 
that  made  the  ocean  seem  a  Paradise  Lost. 
We  all  went  straight  to  Liverpool  where  we 
were  fortunate  enough  to  get  passage  on  one 
of  the  first  steamers  out." 

"Oh,  is  Mr.  Derry  here?"  asked  Lily  Rose 
hopefully. 

"No;  he  came  as  far  as  Liverpool  and 
then  went  back  to  London.  He  is  coming 
over  later." 

"Tell  us  all  about  him,  Amarilly.  How 
does  he  look?  Was  he  glad  to  see  you?" 

"He  looks  just  as  he  did  and  he  doesn't 
act  any  differently." 

"Didn't  he  think  you'd  learned  an  orful 
lot?"  asked  Mrs.  Jenkins. 

"I  didn't  have  an  opportunity  to  show  off 
[80] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

but  one  accomplishment.  I  was  the  only 
one  of  our  party  who  could  speak  French  so 
as  to  be  understood.  He  asked  me  how  in 
the  world  I'd  learned  Paris  French  instead 
of  the  college  brand.  I  told  him  Mrs.  Ogil- 
vie's  maid  had  been  in  this  country  but  a 
few  weeks  when  I  went  with  them  to  the 
mountains.  I  used  to  talk  to  her  because 
she  was  so  homesick,  and  she  taught  me  to 
speak  French  as  she  did.  Mr.  Derry  said 
that  was  my  reward  for  being  a  good  mixer." 

"But  didn't  he  think  you  changed  ?"  asked 
Lily  Rose. 

"I  think  not;  he  said  I  looked  just  as  he 
expected  me  to  look." 

Lily  Rose  manifested  great  disappointment. 

"Well,  your  trip  kind  of  petered  out," 
said  Mrs.  Jenkins  sympathetically.  "Be  you 
sorry  you  went,  Amarilly  ?" 

"No;  it  was  a  wonderful  experience,  and 
then  it  made  a  sort  of  coupling  link  between 
college  and  life." 

"Made  up  your  mind  yet  what  you're 
a-goin'  to  do?"  inquired  the  Boarder. 

"Yes;  that  is,  for  a  few  weeks.  Mr. 
Lyle  appeared  on  deck  again  coming  home, 
and  I  offered  him  my  services  to  typewrite 
[811 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

the  new  play  he  is  composing.  I  am  going 
to  the  city  to-morrow  and  then  out  to  Oak- 
ridge  where  he  lives.  I  shall  come  home  for 
week-ends,  of  course." 

"I'm  afeard,"  said  her  mother,  "that  Mr. 
Derry'll  be  disappinted  after  all  your  fine 
eddication  to  find  out  you're  jest  runnin'  a 
typewriter." 

"It's  the  first  bird  in  my  hand,"  replied 
Amarilly,  "and  I'll  hold  it  until  I  can  coax 
some  more  out  of  the  bush." 

"We  won't  none  of  us  be  early  birds,  I'm 
a-thinkin',"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins,  "unless  we 
go  to  bed." 

It  had  been  a  warm,  close  day,  but  a  cool 
breeze  swept  generously  through  Amarilly's 
casement  windows  all  night,  and  she  slept 
until  the  sun  was  midway  to  meridian. 

"That's  the  first  straight  sleep  I've  had  in 
weeks,"  she  thought.  "How  did  I  ever 
escape  the  morning  matin  of  the  fowlery ! 
I  feel  sufficiently  alert  and  renewed  to  look 
myself  in  the  eye  and  not  dodge  things  any 
longer." 

"Amarilly  Jenkins,"  she  exclaimed  to  her 
reflection  in  the  mirror,  a  few  moments  later, 
"you  have  known  right  along,  even  if  you 
[82] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

wouldn't  own  up  to  it,  that  you've  been 
weaving  a  silly  little  story  these  four  years. 
You  imagined  a  fairy  godmother  had  been 
standing  over  you,  waving  a  magic  wand 
that  would  transform  you  into  a  wonderful 
being  that  would  completely  overwhelm  Mr. 
Derry  with  amazement  when  he  beheld  what 
his  generosity  had  wrought.  And  when  he 
saw  you  and  said  so  casually :  '  You  haven't 
changed  a  bit,  Amarilly',  it  was  as  though 
some  one  had  poured  a  pitcher  of  ice  water 
over  you.  Served  you  right  and  did  you 
good.  Probably  everything  you  try  to  do 
will  end  just  that  way  —  in  a  farce ;  but 
then,  after  all,  a  farce  is  better  than  a  tragedy." 

"Amarilly,"  Cory  called  from  the  stairway, 
"Mr.  Courville  is  here." 

"Has  our  neighbor  lost  his  nickname?" 
wondered  Amarilly. 


83 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  VIII 

next    day    Amarilly    went    to    the 
JL     city  and  joined  the  troop  of  transients 
marching    from    door    to    door    in    fruitless 
search  for  "something  nice,  but  inexpensive" 
—  two  adjectives  that  rarely  keep  company. 

Her  attention  was  attracted  by  a  limestone 
house-front,  with  awnings  and  window  boxes, 
on  an  unfashionable  but  pleasant  street. 

"Probably  far  beyond  my  means,  but  you 
can't  tell  always  by  externals,"  she  thought 
as  she  rang  the  bell. 

The  landlady,  fifty,  fat  and  fussy,  "showed 
her  through."  The  first  floor  was  divided 
into  three-room  suites  with  bath  and  oc- 
cupied by  prosperous  people  with  incomes 
that  did  not  escape  the  assessor's  eye. 

She  looked  at  these  offerings  but  casually, 
remarking  that  she  did  not  wish  so  much 
room.  The  landlady  quickly  charged  on  to 
the  second  floor  which  was  in  suites  of  two 
with  bath. 

[84] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"In  business  and  most  places,"  thought 
Amarilly,  keeping  steadily  on  to  the  third, 
"the  higher  up  you  go,  the  greater  your  caste 
and  cost,  but  in  rooming  houses,  it  seems  to 
be  the  reverse." 

She  felt  more  at  home  on  this  floor  where 
the  rooms  were  single  and  baths  occasional ; 
so  she  began  to  appear  interested  and  ask 
questions,  the  answers  to  which  sent  her  still 
higher. 

At  the  end  of  the  long  hallway  of  the  fourth 
floor  she  came  to  a  room  of  cell-size  propor- 
tions. A  cot,  a  small  chest  of  drawers  and  a 
chair  made  it  seem  cluttered. 

"This  would  be  very  handy,"  she  reflected. 
"I  could  lie  in  the  cot  and  touch  everything 
in  the  room.  I'd  have  to  eat  some  of  Alice 
in  Wonderland's  cake,  though,  to  squeeze  in." 

The  price  of  the  room  made  forcible  appeal. 

"It  would  seem  spacious  if  I  called  it  a 
Pullman  reservation,"  she  thought,  "and  it's 
really  quite  up  to  stateroom  accommodations." 

She  agreed  to  take  the  room,  and  her  ready 
compliance  with  advance  rent  demands  re- 
stored her  in  a  measure  to  the  landlady's 
favor,  which  had  waned  in  proportion  to  each 
flight  of  stairs  ascended.  Moreover,  these 
[85] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

fourth  floor  rooms  were  hard  to  rent,  because 
"cookers,"  if  caught  in  the  act,  were  dis- 
barred, and  people  able  to  "eat  out"  wanted 
more  pretentious  lodgings. 

Amarilly  ordered  her  luggage  sent  up  and 
then  went  by  suburban  train  to  Oakridge. 

"Half  way  house  to  the  country,"  she 
commented,  as  she  came  down  the  one  and 
only  street  of  the  little  town.  "Looks  like 
a  toy  village,  or  the  stage  settings  for 
one." 

She  was  shown  to  a  study  at  the  rear  of 
the  second  story  of  J.  Perigreen  Lyle's  house 
and  bidden  to  await  his  arrival.  On  a  table 
was  a  miniature  stage  with  all  settings  com- 
plete, and  in  the  flies  were  various  little 
figures  of  men,  women  and  children.  She 
was  absorbed  in  the  wonders  of  this  fas- 
cinating little  device  when  the  playwright 
entered.  He  explained  the  workings  of  the 
contrivance,  touching  buttons  here  and  there 
that  sent  forth  the  figures  needed. 

"They  move  so  quickly,  you  see,  that  I 
don't  lose  the  thread  of  my  theme." 

"It's  like  moving  pictures,  only  better," 
said  Amarilly.  "I  am  always  impatient  of 
the  time  they  give  you  to  read  the  lines  which 
[86] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

seem  so  superfluous  —  mere  voicing  of  the 
obvious.  But  where  did  you  find  such  a 
wonderful  little  theater?" 

"We  have  a  village  genius  here,  an  inventor. 
I  told  him  what  I  wanted  and  he  worked  it 
out.  He  can  invent  anything." 

"Who  is  he?"  she  asked,  wondering  if  he 
couldn't  invent  a  profession  for  her. 

"His  name  is  Sydney  Marsden.  I  think 
we  can  begin  the  play  now." 

Amarilly's  nimble  fingers  flew  mechanically 
over  the  keys,  her  mind  concentrated  on 
thoughts  of  his  play,  which  started  most 
promisingly.  Once  he  made  such  a  pro- 
longed pause  that  she  turned  curiously.  He 
was  evidently  groping  for  a  word.  In  spite 
of  knowing  that  she  should  not  do  so,  un- 
bidden, she  could  not  refrain  from  suggesting 
one. 

"No,"  he  replied.     "That  is  not  the  word." 

"It  was,"  thought  Amarilly,  "it  was  the 
only  word  for  the  place;  but  he  is  too  con- 
trary to  accept  it.  I  must  learn  to  speak 
only  when  spoken  to.  I  know  how  he  feels, 
too,  about  being  interrupted.  It's  like  hav- 
ing some  one  walk  heavy  across  the  floor 
when  there's  a  cake  in  the  oven." 
[87] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Dictation  didn't  progress  very  swimmingly. 
Finally  he  bade  her  tear  up  the  pages  she 
had  written  and  he  began  anew.  When  he 
announced  that  he  was  through  for  the  day, 
it  didn't  seem  to  Amarilly  that  he  had  even 
made  a  beginning.  He  kept  her  there  for 
an  hour  discoursing  on  the  play. 

"People  who  talk  so  much  about  one 
thing,"  she  philosophized,  "lack  listeners, 
so  he  is  paying  a  salary  to  one." 

"I  trust,"  she  thought,  when  she  was 
finally  able  to  depart,  "that  my  remunera- 
tion is  not  to  be  estimated  by  the  number  of 
typewritten  pages  I  turn  out  exclusive  of 
those  he  has  me  destroy,  else  I  won't  earn 
more  than  enough  to  pay  my  car  fare  out  and 
in." 

She  then  asked  him  what  salary  she  was  to 
receive. 

"I'll  reimburse  you  for  your  time,"  he 
replied  in  a  tone  that  seemed  to  indicate  that 
the  matter  of  payment  was  of  trifling  moment. 

"Probably,"  pursued  Amarilly,  "on  some 
days  we  will  turn  out  several  pages,  and 
other  days,  none;  but  still  like  a  soldier  I 
will  be  here  on  duty,  so  I  should  draw  pay 
like  one  —  small,  but  steady  and  sure." 
[88] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

He  ran  over  her  work. 

"Accurate,  neat  and  in  correct  form,"  he 
criticized,  "  and  you  are  very  quick  at  taking. 
Any  reasonable  recompense  you  name  will 
be  satisfactory  to  me." 

"I  mustn't  be  grasping  like  my  landlady," 
she  thought,  "nor  undervaluing." 

The  price  she  named  was  mutually  agree- 
able, and  she  went  to  her  little  lodgings  well 
satisfied. 

The  succeeding  days  were  much  like  the 
first  one,  and  her  struggles  with  her  inclina- 
tion to  "suggest"  were  stupendous  some- 
times, but  she  muzzled  her  mentality  as 
well  as  her  tongue  until  she  came  to  feel 
quite  machine-made. 

Her  interest  in  the  little  stage  was  the 
means  of  her  making  the  acquaintance  of 
Sydney  Marsden  and  his  sister,  Miss  Roxy, 
to  whom  she  paid  frequent  visits. 

One  day  she  went  from  Oakridge  to  the 
Merediths  in  response  to  a  telephone  call. 

While  she  was  giving  Colette  a  fair  imita- 
tion of  J.  Perigreen  Lyle  "at  dictation", 
she  became  conscious  that  her  friend's  danc- 
ing eyes  were  focused  on  someone  else.  She 
turned  quickly. 

[89] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Oh,  Mr.  Deny!"  she  exclaimed  joyfully, 
meeting  the  outstretched  hands  and  laughing 
eyes  of  the  tall  young  man  who  was  looking 
down  upon  her  with  a  sort  of  tender  amuse- 
ment, "you  come  on  for  all  the  world  like 
one  of  J.  Perigreen's  little  stage  figures." 

"Really,  Amarilly,  I  can't  imagine  how 
that  is,  but  somehow  I  feel  that  it  is  a  way 
you  like." 

"When  did  you  come?" 

"To-day.  I  am  the  surprise  Mrs.  Mere- 
dith telephoned  she  had  for  you." 

"And  now,"  said  Colette  to  Amarilly,  "I 
shall  tell  him  what  a  false  start  you  have 
made." 

"A  false  start  is  better  than  none,"  de- 
clared Amarilly. 

"With  all  her  capabilities,"  continued 
Colette,  "Amarilly  is  simply  typewriting." 

"Only  pro  tern.,  Mr.  Deny,"  added 
Amarilly. 

"Pro  tern,  or  pro  semper,  Amarilly,  I'll 
wager  you  are  a  cracker  jack  of  a  typist,  but 
what's  the  system?" 

"She  made  the  acquaintance  of  someone 
aboard  ship,"  said  Colette,  "who  writes 
plays,  and  she  is  copying  one  for  him.  She 
[90] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

has  a  room,  goodness  knows  where,  and  she 
takes  tea  with  a  queer  old  inventor  —  and 
altogether  it  was  time  you  returned." 

"I  think  so,  too,"  laughed  Derry.  "I 
want  to  go  about  with  you,  Amarilly.  You 
always  had  the  knack  of  picking  up  unusual 
and  interesting  people.  To-morrow  you  must 
introduce  me  to  the  inventor." 

"To-morrow,"  replied  Amarilly,  "will  be 
Sunday,  and  I  am  going  home  to-night  as  I 
do  every  Saturday  night." 

"Of  course,  and  I  am  going  with  you  to 
see  them  all." 


91 


AMAEILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  IX 

WITHIN  an  hour  after  his  arrival, 
Deny  had  made  the  rounds  of  the 
farm  with  the  Boarder,  had  induced  the 
chubby,  cherubic  Ceely  to  pose  for  a  sketch 
to  present  to  her  delighted  mother,  had 
rescued  Iry  from  a  hornet's  nest  and  hob- 
nobbed with  the  family  generally. 

"He  always  laughs  with  us,"  Lily  Rose 
confided  to  her  husband,  "but  the  Man  at 
the  Corners  only  smiles,  and  sometimes  I 
feel  he  is  smiling  at  us  instead  of  with  us." 

After  dinner  the  next  day,  Derry  asked 
Amarilly  to  help  him  select  a  bit  of  landscape 
along  the  river  for  a  sketch. 

When  they  came  from  the  close-cropped 
field  into  the  pasture  lane,  he  stood  still  and 
drew  in  a  deep  breath  of  the  clover-scented 
air. 

"This  is  great!"  he  declared.  "Aren't 
you  getting  acclimated,  or  are  you  the  same 
little  gamin?" 

[92] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  know  it's  very  beautiful,  but,  Mr. 
Deny,  don't  you  love  the  sound  of  the 
wheels  going  round?  Here  in  the  country 
every  time  a  rooster  crows  in  the  early  morn- 
ing, you  wonder  when  he  is  going  to  repeat, 
and  you  stay  awake  to  see,  but  in  town  the 
sounds  go  right  along  regularly  like  a  clock 
ticking." 

"But  look  up  through  all  this  green  and 
see  how  blue  the  sky  is/' 

"It's  just  as  blue  when  you  look  at  it  up 
between  the  skyscrapers." 

"And  you  don't  see  pictures  in  the  cows 
in  the  lane  there,  —  the  sheep  huddled  to- 
gether in  the  meadow?" 

"The  cows  have  a  hooking  expression  and 
the  sheep  have  no  originality.  They  just 
follow  the  flock.  And  those  silly,  clucking 
hens  picking  at  the  grass  all  the  time,  with 
their  foolish  heads  turned  over  those  strutting 
roosters  !  No ;  I  like  city  scenes  with  humans 
in  them." 

"All  that  redeems  your  sordid  little  soul  in 
my  eyes  is  your  innate  taste  in  colors.  Here 
is  the  sketch  I'll  make,"  he  added,  as  they 
came  through  the  woods  to  the  river's  edge. 

She  seated  herself  on  a  log  and  watched 
[93] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

him  as  he  mentally  measured  the  space  he 
intended  to  transfer  to  canvas. 

"Well,"  he  asked,  after  a  long  silence  hi 
which  he  sketched  quickly  and  vividly.  "I 
am  awaiting  your  criticism.  How  do  you 
think  it  is  coming?" 

"I  suppose,"  she  said  a  little  dubiously,  "I 
am  not  trained  yet  to  the  French  school — lots 
of  color  and  less  of  shape.  At  long  range  you 
think  you  see  the  sky  and  trees  and  water 
and  things  all  mapped  out,  and  then  as  you 
walk  toward  it,  everything  comes  and  goes 
and  runs  together,  and  you  decide  it  was  just 
the  mirage  of  a  picture  that  you  first  saw. 
The  colors  hurt  my  eyes.  Your  little  clump 
of  wild  stuff  there  looks  like  things  tipped 
over  in  the  ice-box.  You've  made  your  trees 
a  golf  green,  and  at  this  time  of  the  year,  just 
before  they  turn,  they  should  be  olive." 

"What  might  golf  green  be,  Amarilly? 
It's  a  brand  new  shade  on  me." 

"Take  notice  the  next  time  you  go  on  the 
links.  It's  a  newer  green  —  more  yellow 
than  a  shaded  lawn." 

"With  your  line  on  colors,  Amarilly,  it's  a 
wonder  you  haven't  taken  up  interior  decorat- 
ing." 

[94] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Maybe  I  will.  There  isn't  an  occupation 
I  haven't  considered.  I  may  as  well  own  up, 
Mr.  Derry,  that  education  hasn't  seemed  to 
overcome  my  ruling  passion  of  younger  days. 
Moneymaking  appeals  to  me,  and  I  feel  that 
I  must  find  another  'surplus'  in  some  shape 
or  another." 

"You  doubtless  will.  It  takes  time,  you 
know,  to  crank  up  and  steer  out  of  the  speed- 
limit  zone ;  but,  I  am  going  to  'fess  up,  too. 
This  sketch  is  a  burlesque  of  the  real  thing 
—  a  frame-up  to  test  you.  I'm  delighted 
that  you  didn't  like  it.  I  didn't  come  here 
to  paint  or  discuss  art,  however,"  he  added, 
leaving  his  easel,  and  seating  himself  beside 
her  on  the  log.  "I  came  to  renew  that  snatch 
of  conversation  we  had  in  our  flight  from 
Calais,  which  was  interrupted  by  one  or  more 
of  your  friends.  I  — " 

He  paused  to  gaze  back  into  the  woods  at 
the  sound  of  the  crackling  of  brush. 

"Who's  the  man?"  he  asked  quickly,  his 
artist's  eye  attracted  by  the  suppressed 
strength  in  the  stalwart  shoulders  of  the 
lean-fibred  man  approaching. 

"Oh,  it  is  Mr.  Courville !  Don't  you 
like  the  way  he  walks,  as  if  he  were  bred 
[95] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

in  forests?  That's  the  way  he  has  gone 
through  life,  stepping  over  obstacles  instead 
of  stumbling  over  them,  although  he  had  one 
tremendous  fall." 

"I  am  glad  he's  side-stepped  this  time," 
remarked  Deny,  watching  the  retreat.  "So 
you  like  a  high-stepper,  Amarilly?" 

"You  have  never  had  to  step  high.  The 
way  was  always  cleared  for  you  before  you 
came.  Just  a  smooth-paved  highway  before 
you,  and  you've  always  been  well-shod." 

"Don't  for  a  moment  make  the  mistake  of 
thinking  life  isn't  a  tough  road  for  the  rich 
to  travel.  Money  brings  all  sorts  of  stum- 
bling blocks  even  on  the  broad  highway. 
Happiness,  after  all,  is  merely  a  case  of 
getting  what  you  want,  and  it's  generally 
something  you  can't  get,  rich  or  poor.  The 
poor  are  always  longing  for  riches,  and 
riches  aren't  so  hard  to  acquire  as  what  the 
rich  man  wants — something  money  can't  buy." 

"What,  for  instance?"  demanded  Amarilly. 

"  Well  —  the  moon,  maybe." 

"He  shouldn't  want  anything  so  useless  as 
the  moon  would  be  to  him,  and  if  he  did  get 
it,  he  wouldn't  know  what  to  do  with  it,  or 
else  he'd  get  tired  of  it." 
[96] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Amarilly,"  he  asked  bluntly,  after  a 
moment,  "are  you  falling  in  love  with  this 
high-stepper  of  a  man?" 

"I  know  less  about  love  than  I  do  about 
art,  and  I  shaD  have  no  time  for  either." 

"Mrs.  St.  John  wrote  me  — " 

"That  was  one  of  her  little  pleasantries. 
Mr.  Courville  has  his  own  little  story." 

"Has  he  confided  the  story  of  his  life  to 
you  already?" 

"Yes;  his  story  wasn't  a  love-story. 
Something  more  tragic.  He's  very  unhappy, 
and  yet  he  has  been  brave  about  it.  That 
was  why  he  bought  a  place  here  in  the  country 
so  that  he  wouldn't  be  downed  by  his  moods. 
You  must  see  his  farm.  He  didn't  make  it 
all  into  fields  —  crop-fields.  He  left  a  great 
part  of  it  as  it  was,  a  jungle  of  gardens, 
woods,  marsh,  lake  —  I  can't  describe  it. 
We'll  go  down  and  see  it." 

"Too  much  of  nature  about  it  to  appeal 
to  you  long.  Wait,  Amarilly,  until  I  set  up 
the  studio  I  have  in  mind.  You  will  like  it 
better  than  you  will  the  most  beautiful  farm 
in  the  world.  So  I  have  it  all  over  your 
farmer  friend  there.  Are  you  sure  you  aren't 
a  little  bit  touched  by  his  story  and  — " 
[«TJ 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Her  eyes  met  his  squarely  with  all  the 
frankness  of  a  young  boy. 

"I  like  him  very  much,  Mr.  Deny;  but 
I  am  not  making  him  a  hero  —  as  Cory  is 
inclined  to  do." 

Something  in  the  scrutinizing  gaze  she  met 
this  time  disconcerted  her,  and  her  eyes 
dropped. 

"Amarilly,  have  you  ever  made  a  hero 
of  anyone  —  say  —  when  you  were  Go's 
age—" 

There  was  another  crashing  of  fallen  boughs, 
and  Bobby  appeared. 

"It's  supper-time,"  he  announced. 

Lily  Rose  stood  at  the  door  watching  them 
come  up  the  lane,  Amarilly  a  little  in  advance 
and  Bobby  eagerly  talking  with  Derry. 

"  Amarilly 's  heart's  asleep,"  she  thought. 
"It  ain't  waked  up  yet." 


[98] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  X 

DERRY  quite  approved  the  exterior  of 
Amarilly's  lodgings  and  she  discreetly 
forebore  to  mention  the  dimensions  and  loca- 
tion of  her  room.  After  he  had  satisfied 
himself  as  to  the  ratings  of  J.  Perigreen 
Lyle  and  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
Marsdens,  he  was  convinced  that  Amarilly, 
as  of  old,  was  equal  to  all  occasions. 

He  established  himself  in  most  artistic  and 
luxurious  quarters  and  his  studio  was  besieged 
by  art  aspirants.  He  responded  to  but  few  of 
the  hospitable  overtures  extended  him,  the 
door  of  John  Meredith's  house  being  among 
the  chosen  ones  of  those  opened  to  him. 

"Mr.  Phillips,"  said  Colette  impetuously, 
one  afternoon  soon  after  his  return,  "can't 
you  induce  Amarilly  to  take  up  something 
worth  while?" 

His  eyes  twinkled. 

"I  know  better  than  to  play  with  the  buzz 
saw.  Amarilly's  vision  is  perfect  and  her 
hair  is  red.  As  long  as  she  sees  straight, 
[991 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

anything  she  takes  up  she  will  eventually 
make  worth  while." 

"Weren't  you  surprised  in  her  wonderful 
change  of  appearance  when  you  saw  her  in 
Cherbourg?" 

"I  didn't  think  her  changed,"  he  replied. 
"Just  naturally  developed  along  the  lines 
my  artist's  eye  foresaw.  The  secret  of  Ama- 
rilly's  charm  isn't  in  her  appearance,  but  in 
a  certain  —  shall  I  call  it  vividness  ?  —  the 
glad-you-are-alive  feeling  she  gives  one." 

Colette's  comment  was  withheld  by  reason 
of  the  entrance  of  Amarilly. 

"J.  Perigreen  must  have  been  dictating  a 
jubilee,"  remarked  Colette.  "You  certainly 
look  keyed  up,  Amarilly." 

"There  was  'one  thrilling  scene,  but  it 
was  entirely  impromptu  and,  well,  speaking 
of  keys,  Mr.  Lyle  is  looking  for  someone  else 
to  operate  them." 

"Oh,  you  came  to  your  senses  and  re- 
signed!" exclaimed  Colette  approvingly. 

"No;  I  lost  my  senses  and  —  my  ser- 
vices were  dispensed  with." 

"How  horrid!  I  knew  a  man  with  such  a 
name — " 

"Now,  Mrs.  St.  John!  I  hurried  up  here 
[1001 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

to  tell  you  because  I  thought  you  would  be 
so  pleased." 

"I  am,  with  the  main  issue;  but  I  don't 
want  you  undervalued  even  by  a  Perigreen. 
What  was  the  trouble?" 

"You  see  he  really  has  the  makings  of  a 
play  if  he'd  only  work  it  up  right.  To-day 
he  was  dictating  a  scene  that  he  could  have 
made  big  —  his  principal  scene  —  and  it  was 
a  perfect  fiasco.  I  glued  my  tongue  to  the 
roof  of  my  mouth  and  kept  it  there  all  the 
time  he  was  dictating,  but  when  I  was  leav- 
ing and  still  censoring  my  speech,  he  must 
ask  me  in  a  supremely  satisfied  tone  what 
I  thought  of  his  masterpiece.  The  lid  of 
my  reserve  was  pressed  up  and  suddenly 
flew  off  and  my  honest  opinion  escaped. 
You'll  understand,  Mr.  Derry ;  it  was  as 
though  some  artist  was  painting  a  really 
good  picture  and  then  suddenly  went  color- 
blind, took  a  brush,  daubed  an  ugly  color 
across  the  best  part  of  it  and  then  coolly 
asked  you  how  you  liked  it." 

"I  am  glad  you  were  true  to  your  colors, 
Amarilly,"  approved  Derry. 

"And  now,"  said  Colette,  "after  wasting 
all  these  weeks  — " 

[101] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Not  wasting,"  objected  Amarilly.  "If 
Mr.  Lyle  couldn't  handle  situations,  he  could 
words.  His  vocabulary  is  so  versatile,  I've 
really  had  a  post-graduate  course  in  English." 

"Well,  I  hope  you  will  take  up  something 
far  different  now,"  said  Colette. 

"You  must  remember,"  pleaded  Amarilly, 
"that  I  am  but  one  of  a  million  more  or  less 
graduates  let  out  to  hunt  for  fields,  and  I 
haven't  found  one  yet.  I  seem  to  be  a  drug 
on  the  market." 

"You  used  to  have  a  monopoly  of 
schemes." 

"I  must  find  a  stop-gap  first.  I  am  on 
my  way  in  search  of  one  now." 

"Postpone  that  for  a  day  or  so  and  do  a 
commission  for  me.  John  and  I  have  de- 
cided to  adopt  a  child.  We  are  of  the  opin- 
ion that  you  more  than  anyone  can  tell  the 
good  points  of  a  boy  —  for  it's  a  boy  we  want. 
There  is  a  Children's  Home  up-state  a  little 
way  that  Mr.  St.  John  is  interested  in.  I 
want  you  to  go  there  and  make  a  few  selec- 
tions. Then  we  will  follow  some  day  and 
take  the  fairest  one  of  your  pick." 

"I'd  love  to  do  that !"  exclaimed  Amarilly. 

"There  is  a  morning  train  which  will  give 
[102] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

you  time  to  visit  the  institution  and  be  back 
here  for  dinner.  Mr.  St.  John  will  give  you 
all  the  details  and  a  letter  to  the  matron." 

"I  will  go  with  you,"  declared  Deny. 

"No,  Mr.  Deny,"  said  Amarilly  firmly. 
"You  would  be  —  distracting.  I  think  I 
could  put  my  mind  on  it  better  if  I  were 
alone." 

"Anyway,  I  shall  meet  you  when  you  come 
home." 

"You  will  both  dine  with  us,"  said  Colette, 
"and  we  will  enjoy  Amarilly's  report." 


103 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XI 

/^ORYDON  BLAKE,  resting  his  head 
\*^A  against  the  plush  of  the  Pullman, 
was  supinely  contemplating  between  half- 
closed  eyes,  that  seeing  yet  seemed  to  see 
not,  the  young  girl  who  occupied  the  section 
opposite  him.  Even  if  she  had  been  con- 
scious of  his  gaze,  there  was  naught  in  it  to 
offend.  His  interest  was  entirely  impersonal 
and  confined  to  speculations  as  to  what  part 
in  the  procession  of  plays  parading  his  fancy 
he  would  be  most  likely  to  assign  her,  if  he 
had  the  opportunity. 

"She  is  young  and  fresh  enough  for  an 
ingenue  part,"  he  thought,  "and  yet,  she 
looks  as  if  she  had  a  goodly  stock  of  worldly 
wisdom." 

He  knew  he  was  indulging  in  a  vain  va- 
gary, for  it  was  quite  apparent  that  she  was 
not  an  actress.  In  fact,  he  couldn't  appraise 
her  station  in  life.  Her  appearance  and  all 
her  little  belongings  so  simple  and  still  evi- 
[104] 


AMARELLY  IN  LOVE 

dencing  refined  tastes  proclaimed  her  as  not 
of  the  working  class,  and  yet  there  was  an 
indefinable  and  unmistakeable  something 
which  convinced  him  she  had  not  been 
exclusively  reared.  In  her  converse  with 
conductors,  porters  and  that  usually  antag- 
onistic person,  the  news  agent,  she  was 
pleasant  and  responsive,  not  with  the  gracious 
aloofness  of  a  grand  dame  born,  or  the  noblesse 
oblige  manner,  but  with  the  come-and-go 
camaraderie  that  implied  a  complete  under- 
standing of  those  in  the  ranks. 

"If  she  were  older  and  less  charming,  I 
should  say  she  was  a  socialist,"  he  decided. 

Suddenly  he  assumed  an  upright  position. 
The  train  was  running  at  highest  rate  of 
speed  and  he  seemed  to  sense  a  happening. 
Another  instant  brought  a  quick  jolt  —  a 
rocking  motion  followed  by  an  ominous  halt. 
He  went  forward  and  learned  that  the  train 
had  broken  in  two  on  a  heavy  grade.  The 
last  portion,  consisting  of  nine  sleepers  and 
a  diner,  had  overtaken  the  day  coaches  and 
smashed  one  of  them  completely. 

He  joined  the  men  hurrying  to  the  aid  of 
the  victims,  climbing  over  the  wreckage 
from  which  came  the  helpless  cries  of  those 
[105] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

buried  beneath  the  mass  of  timbers.  The 
inevitable,  accompanying  fire  was  lending 
its  horror.  He  was  stopped  on  his  merciful 
way  by  the  sound  of  a  faint  little  voice  say- 
ing: 

"Can't  you  get  me  out?" 

The  glow  of  running  red  fire  showed  him  a 
little  lad  tightly  wedged  in  between  heavy 
beams,  his  terrified,  appealing  eyes  the  rep- 
lica in  color  and  expression  of  those  of  the 
dog  he  was  clasping. 

With  set  teeth  and  panting  breath,  Blake 
lifted,  pulled,  tugged  and  strained,  making 
but  a  slight  opening.  In  the  din  and  con- 
fusion his  calls  for  aid  met  with  no  response, 
for  the  rescuers  had  gone  to  the  other  end  of 
the  car.  As  he  was  making  one  more  fruit- 
less effort,  a  man  opportunely  appeared. 

"Some  one  under  there?"  he  asked. 

"Yes;  a  boy  and  a  dog." 

With  almost  superhuman  strength  the  new- 
comer lifted  the  heavy  timber,  and  Blake 
was  enabled  to  drag  the  twain  from  their 
perilous  position. 

"I'll  take  them  back  into  my  car,  the  last 
one,"  said  Blake,  "and  then  I'll  return.  They 
will  need  help  here." 

[106] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

When  he  came  to  his  coach,  the  girl  in 
the  section  opposite  his  was  out  on  the  for- 
ward platform  looking  anxiously  about.  He 
swung  up  on  the  steps  beside  her. 

"Will  you  look  after  this  little  chap  and 
his  dog?"  he  asked,  as  he  hurried  down  the 
aisle. 

"Tell  me  what  has  happened,"  she  said, 
following  him. 

He  explained  briefly. 

"Is  the  little  fellow  hurt?" 

"I  think  not.  Just  frightened.  Nothing 
fell  on  him.  He  was  pinned  in.  I  never 
could  have  saved  him  alone.  Some  man 
with  the  strength  of  a  lion  came  along  just 
in  time." 

"Give  him  to  me,"  she  said,  when  they 
had  reached  her  section,  "and  the  dog,  too. 
I  don't  know  which  I  like  best  a  boy,  or  a 
dog.  Together  they  are  ideal." 

The  boy  looked  up  at  her  with  bewildered 
eyes  as  he  was  laid  gently  in  her  arms. 

"I  ain't  hurt,"  he  assured  her.  "Is  Pups 
all  right?" 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile  that  had 
tears  back  of  it,  "Pups  is  all  right."  . 

Weary  and  yet  content,  his  head  dropped 
[107] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

down  on  her  shoulder  and  his  eyes  closed, 
but  Pups,  on  guard,  kept  alert. 

In  an  hour  Blake  returned,  tired  and 
triumphant. 

"Not  so  bad  as  it  might  have  been,"  he 
declared. 

"Nothing  ever  is,"  she  replied. 

"We  were  not  so  very  far  from  a  station. 
Plenty  of  helpers  and  all  the  doctors  came. 
The  fire  was  quickly  put  out.  Only  one 
killed,  though  the  list  of  injured  is  long,  I 
fear." 

The  girl  shuddered  and  pressed  the  little 
form  closer  to  her. 

"Have  you  held  him  and  that  cumber- 
some dog,  too,  all  this  time?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"Yes;  I  couldn't  put  the  boy  down, 
because  he  is  still  scared  and  clings  to  me. 
When  I  tried  to  release  the  dog,  he  uttered 
such  heartrending  howls  I  thought  it  judi- 
cious to  bear  both  my  burdens." 

"Let  me  relieve  you." 

"You'll  go  to  the  man  again,  Dumplings?" 
she  asked.  "Yes;  of  course  you  will." 

"Is  his  name  Dumplings?"  asked  Blake, 
looking  down  at  the  shrimp-like  form. 
[108] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"It's  my  name  for  him." 

"What's  your  other  name,  my  lad?"  asked 
Blake. 

"Phillip." 

"Phillip  what?" 

The  boy  hesitated  > 

"I  guess,  Snyder,"  he  said  finally. 

"Were  your  parents  with  you  in  the  car?" 

"No.  I  was  making  the  trip  alone.  Just 
me  and  Pups,"  he  said  proudly. 

"Where  were  you  going?" 

"Nowheres.     Just  catching  a  ride." 

"Where  do  your  folks  live?" 

"Haven't  got  none." 

"  No  relations  ?     No  friends  ?  " 

"My  relations  are  dead,  I  guess,  and  I 
haven't  got  any  friends  except  Pups,  and  you, 
and  her,"  -  looking  at  the  girl,  —  "and  that 
big  man  that  took  me  out." 

"Where  did  you  get  on  the  train  ?" 

"At  the  last  stop.  I  was  trying  to  see 
how  far  I  could  ride  before  they  put  me  off, 
but  the  kinductor  thought  I  b 'longed  to  a 
woman  with  a  lot  of  kids  in  front  of  me. 
Nobody  asked  me  for  any  ticket.  I  hid 
Pups  under  the  seat.  He  didn't  move  once, 
didjer,  Pups?" 

[109] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Pups  made  violent  denial  of  any  such  sup- 
position. 

"But  whom  did  you  live  with?"  persisted 
Blake. 

"Didn't  live  with  anybody.  I  stayed  with 
my  last  stepdad  till  he  got  killed.  Kept 
myself  since,  and  Pups,  too." 

"How  long  has  your  mother  been  dead?" 
asked  the  girl. 

"I  don't  know.     A  long  time." 

"How  old  are  you?" 

"Seven  —  going  on  eight." 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  said,  noting  the  flush 
that  had  crept  into  the  wan  little  face, 
"that  we're  talking  too  much.  He  looks 
feverish." 

"Maybe  he  is  hurt,"  said  Blake  quickly. 
"I'll  see  if  I  can't  get  hold  of  one  of  the 
doctors." 

He  deposited  the  boy  and  the  dog  on  the 
seat  and  left  the  coach.  Presently  he  returned 
with  a  young  physician. 

'"What  have  you  had  to  eat  to-day?" 
asked  the  latter,  as  he  took  the  lad's  tem- 
perature. 

"I  had  some  peanuts  this  morning,"  re- 
plied the  boy  after  a  moment's  reflection, 
[110] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"and  a  banana,  too.  But  Pups  didn't  have 
anything  but  peanuts,  'cause  he  didn't  like 
bananas,  didjer,  Pups?" 

Pups  beat  a  vehement  tattoo  with  his 
long  tail,  and  made  frantic  passes  with  his 
tongue  at  the  little  wizened  face  so  close  to  his. 

"And  what  yesterday?"  probed  the  doctor. 

"Nothing.  Yes;  I  had  a  cup  of  coffee, 
and  Pups  took  a  bone  away  from  a  big  bull- 
dog, didn'tjer,  Pups?" 

Again  Pups  proudly  acknowledged  the  alle- 
gation. 

"He  wasn't  hurt  in  the  accident,"  diag- 
nosed the  doctor,  "but  he  is  nearly  famished, 
and  so  is  the  dog  —  or  isn't  he  a  dog  ? "  he 
asked  doubtfully.  "He  looks  like  he's  first 
cousin  to  a  calf." 

Blake  had  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"There's  a  diner  on.  Dumplings  shall 
have  a  banquet." 

The  doctor  laid  a  restraining  hand  on  his 
arm  and  the  girl  smiled  comprehendingly. 

"A  little  warm  milk?"  she  asked. ' 

"Yes;    that  will  be  best.     Don't  let  him 
talk  any  more.     He  may  have  a  slight  fever 
for  two  or  three  days,  but  rest  and  nourish- 
ment will  put  him  right." 
[1111 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"What  may  Pups  have?"  demanded  Blake. 
"I  am  hankering  to  perform  commissary 
duties." 

"Anything  available,"  replied  the  doctor 
with  a  grin. 

"Then  Pups  for  a  spring  chicken,"  de- 
clared Blake,  as  he  went  away. 

"Everyone  was  so  upset,  it  was  difficult 
to  get  service,"  he  said,  when  he  returned, 
bearing  a  glass  of  milk  and  a  platter  at  which 
Pups  sniffed  eagerly  and  knowingly. 

The  girl  held  the  glass  of  milk  to  the  boy's 
colorless  lips,  and  Blake  proffered  Pups 
portions  of  the  chicken  in  large  subdivisions. 
The  recoil  of  surprise  when  he  swallowed  the 
first  piece  of  this  unwonted  luxury  nearly 
knocked  him  over,  but  he  came  to  and  de- 
voured the  remainder  with  a  voracity  which 
pleased  Dumplings  more  than  did  the  slight 
appeasing  of  his  own  hunger. 

"Will  it  be  long  before  we  go  on?"  asked 
the  girl. 

"This  train  is  not  going  on.  I  believe 
the  plan  is  to  make  up  another  train  on  the 
other  side  of  the  wreck  and  transfer  us. 
There  may  be  quite  a  wait  yet.  Do  you 
want  to  send  some  telegrams  ?" 
[1121 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Maybe  I  had  better.  I  was  expected 
on  an  earlier  train  than  this.  I  will  write 
a  message  as  soon  as  Dumplings  finishes  the 
milk.  The  doctor  said  to  have  him  sip  it." 

Long  after  Pups  had  pulverized  the  sole 
remaining  bone  of  the  chicken,  Dumplings 
had  drained  the  last  drop  of  milk  in  the 
glass.  She  put  him  down  on  the  seat  and 
spread  Blake's  top  coat  over  him,  Pups  im- 
mediately becoming  sentinel. 

She  wrote  a  message  and  handed  it  to  the 
man. 

"See  if  it's  understandable,  please.  I  have 
never  had  occasion  to  write  telegrams." 

:"Rev.  John  Meredith/"  he  read, —  and 
then  paused. 

"I  heard  him  preach  once,"  he  said  remi- 
niscently,  "only  time  I'd  been  to  church 
in  years.  I  have  met  his  wife,  too,"  he  added, 
beginning  to  readjust  his  preconceptions-  of 
Amarilly's  social  status,  i 

"Your  message  is  very  concise  and  ex- 
planatory," he  said  approvingly,  as  he  started 
to  leave  the  car. 

"Wait,  please,"  she  called  after  him.     "I 
believe  I  should  send  another  message  —  to 
some  one  who  was  going  to  meet  me." 
[1131 


AMARILLY  IN   LOVE 

She  scribbled  another  and  shorter  telegram. 

"Mr.  Deny  Phillips/'  he  read,  though  she 
hadn't  asked  him  to  censor  this  message. 

"Phillips,  the  artist?"  he  asked.  "Seeing 
we  have  so  many  mutual  friends,  the  Mere- 
diths, Phillips  and  Dumplings,  not  to  men- 
tion Pups,  hadn't  we  better  introduce  our- 
selves? My  name  is  Corydon  Blake."^ 

/'Oh!    Not    the    Corydon    Blake!""    she 
gasped. 

"Corydon  Blake  —  without  any  prefix," 
lie  said,  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"The  theatrical  manager?"  she  asked  un- 
believingly. 

"Yes;  and  someway,  you  suggest  the 
profession  to  me.  You  don't  look  like  an 
actress  and  yet  —  have  you  aspirations?" 

"Dear  me!"  thought  Amarilly,  "does  the 
scent  of  the  roses  —  I  mean  of  the  mops  and 
suds  —  hang  round  me  still  ?" 

"  No ;  I  haven't  had  any  since  I  was  thir- 
teen years  old,"  she  confessed. 

"Maybe  I  can  revive  them.  I  wish  I 
had  met  you  then  and  had  the  chance  to 
train  you  for  the  stage.  But  won't  you  let 
the  introduction  be  mutual?  Only  your 
first  name  was  signed  to  the  messages." 
[114] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"  My  name  is  Amarilly  Jenkins  —  not  at  all 
suggestive  of  the  stage." 

When  he  returned  from  the  telegraph  office, 
the  boy  was  lying  on  the  seat  beside  Amarilly, 
his  head  in  her  lap.  Pups,  in  prayerful  at- 
titude, rested  his  nose  on  Dumplings'  breast. 

"He  was  afraid  I  might  go  away  and  leave 
him,"  she  said  to  Blake;  "but  he  knows 
now  I  wouldn't,  don't  you,  Dumplings?" 

The  lad  looked  up  trustfully  into  her  eyes. 

"You're  all  right,"  he  murmured,  and 
again  went  to  sleep. 

Presently  the  porter  came  in  and  told  them 
the  transfer  to  the  other  train  must  be  made. 
Blake  carried  Dumplings,  who  was  still  sleep- 
ing, and  Amarilly  guided  Pups. 

"He  won't  wake  now  until  he  has  had  his 
sleep  out,"  said  Amarilly,  when  they  were 
settled  in  the  other  train. 

"You  seem  to  understand  children." 

"I  should.  I  have  six  brothers  and  a 
sister." 

Blake  looked  whimsically  down  at  the 
pinched  features  of  the  boy,  and  then  made 
a  discovery.  The  little,  ragged  coat  had 
fallen  away  and  pinned  to  his  coarse,  common 
shirt  was  a  Masonic  pin. 
[115J 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Dumplings  thought  he  had  no  friends,"" 
said  Blake,  unfastening  the  pin.  "He'll  find 
he  has  a  world  of  them." 

He  left  the  car  and  on  the  platform  en- 
countered the  man  who  had  rescued  Dump- 
lings from  the  wreck. 

"Was  the  boy  hurt?"  he  asked.  "I  was 
just  coming  to  look  you  up." 

"Only  frightened  —  and  starved.  He's 
asleep  now." 

"Were  his  parents  hurt?" 

"He  doesn't  own  to  having  a  family.  A 
waif.  I  found  this  pin  on  him,  so  I  think 
we  can  find  friends  for  him." 

"Let  me  have  it,"  said  the  man  eagerly. 
"There  are  a  crowd  of  Masons  aboard  re- 
turning from  a  conclave.  I  am  one,  myself, 
and  the  little  fellow  will  be  provided  for." 

"Come  in  and  see  him  first.  Then  you 
can  speak  more  eloquently  of  him." 

"Here's  Dumplings'  'Big  Man',"  Blake 
announced  to  Amarilly  as  he  preceded  the 
man  into  the  dimly  lighted  coach. 

Amarilly  looked  up  with  a  cry  of  surprise 
and  pleasure. 


[1161 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XII 

"1VTR*  COURVILLE!  *  misht  have 

J.VA  known  it  would  be  you!"  she  cried. 
"Dumplings  has  made  a  hero  out  of  you, 
and  told  me  how  you  beat  back  the  fire  and 
lifted  big  beams  piled  as  high  as  a  house 
and  that  weighed  a  million  pounds." 

"I  don't  wonder,"  said  Courville  with  a 
shudder,  "that  it  looked  mountains  high 
to  him.  Don't  disturb  him,"  he  added  hast- 
ily, as  she  started  to  lift  Blake's  coat  from 
him.  "I  am  going  to  take  up  a  collection 
for  him." 

Presently  he  returned,  his  arms  clasped 
about  a  bundle  of  boys'  clothing. 

"Everyone  shelled  out  liberally,  when  they 
heard  of  the  lad.  The  mother  of  four  boys 
donated  these  togs,  and  I  have  quite  a  tidy 
little  sum  for  him.  Lucky,  because  he  has 
no  claim  against  the  railroad  company.  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  him?" 

"I  suppose,"  said  Amarilly,  "that  the 
logical  thing  would  be  to  turn  him  over  to 
[117J 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

the  Merediths.  That  is  why  I  made  this 
trip  —  to  hunt  up  a  child  for  them  to  adopt. 
I  went  to  an  asylum,  but  the  children  were 
all  so  appealing  I  took  an  option  on  about 
twenty,  and  overstayed  my  allotted  time 
then.  When  Dumplings  owned  up  to  his 
kinless  state,  I  thought  I  would  take  him  to 
them,  but  somehow,  well  —  I  can't  explain, 
but  it  seems  as  if  he  belonged  to  me.  Of 
course,  as  you  saved  his  life,  you  have  the 
first  claim  on  him." 

"I  wish  that  I  could  feel  that  I  wanted 
him,"  said  Courville  wistfully.  "It  isn't 
because  I  saved  his  life  that  he  interests  me, 
but  because  of  that  little  pin  —  the  emblem 
of  a  great  brotherhood.  But  what  can  you 
do  with  him?" 

"I'll  take  him  out  to  the  farm  and  leave 
him  there  until  he's  worthy  of  his  name  — 
I  mean  the  one  I  have  given  him." 

"I  must  get  off,  here,"  said  Courville, 
as  they  approached  a  station,  "that  is, — 
will  there  be  some  one  to  meet  you?" 

"Yes,"  she  assured  him.  "When  will  you 
be  home?" 

"To-morrow.  Then  we'll  talk  over  the 
lad's  future." 

[118] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

When  the  train  reached  its  terminal,  Blake, 
bearing  Dumplings,  Amarilly  following,  and 
Pups  cavorting  ahead,  came  through  the 
station  where  Derry  was  in  waiting. 

"We  were  scared  stiff,  Amarilly,  until 
we  received  your  wires.  Oh,  halloa,  Blake ! 
WTiat  have  you  there?  A  boy  for  the  St. 
Johns,  Amarilly?  How  did  you  ever  get 
him  released  from  the  asylum  ?  And  'pon  my 
word,  a  dog !  Does  he  go  with  the  boy  ?  I 
hope  so.  What's  a  boy  without  a  dog?" 

"He  isn't  an  asylum  orphan,  Mr.  Derry," 
explained  Amarilly.  "He  was  in  the  wreck, 
and  he's  all  in.  I  am  going  to  take  him  out 
to  the  farm.  If  your  car  is  here,  will  you 
take  us  to  the  interurban  station?" 

"I  say!"  remonstrated  Blake,  "hadn't 
you  better  take  him  to  the  Merediths  —  or 
somewhere  for  the  night?  It's  too  late  for 
you  to  go  out  alone  on  the  interurban." 

"No,"  said  Amarilly  positively.  "Please, 
Mr.  Derry." 

"Certainly,"  said  Derry  cheerfully,  neither 
comprehending  nor  seeking  undue  informa- 
tion. "My  car  is  here  and  we  will  motor 
out  to  Snydikit  by  moonlight.  Give  you  a 
lift,  Blake?" 

[119] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

But  Blake  said  his  hotel  was  only  a  short 
distance  from  the  station  and  declined  the 
lift.  He  deposited  Dumplings  on  the  back 
seat,  Pups,  unurged,  occupying  the  tonneau. 

"Good  night,  Mr.  Blake,"  said  Amarilly, 
as  he  came  to  the  front  of  the  car  where  she 
sat  with  Derry.  "Thank  you  so  much  for 
all  your  help." 

"Good  night,  Miss  Jenkins.  Don't  fail 
to  let  me  know  how  Dumplings  thrives." 

"I  will  telephone  you.  What  is  your 
address?" 

He  handed  her  his  business  card,  and  went 
to  his  hotel  feeling  quite  positive  that  Amarilly 
was  an  artist's  model  and  had  thus  acquired 
her  fine  poise. 

"Tell  me,  Amarilly,"  commanded  Derry, 
when  they  had  gained  a  comparatively  quiet 
street,  "what  it  all  is,  and  who's  who  and 
what's  what.  It  reeled  off  too  speedily 
for  me." 

"You're  such  a  comfort,  Mr.  Derry!" 
she  exclaimed.  "You  act  first  and  let  ex- 
planations follow." 

"It's  the  only  way  to  do   when   trailing 
you;    but  proceed   with  your  explanations. 
They  promise  to  be  interesting." 
[120] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

By  the  time  Amarilly  had  reached  the  end 
of  her  little  narrative,  they  were  on  the  broad 
highway  in  the  country. 

"And  so,"  she  concluded,  "I'll  invest 
the  Masonic  fund  for  his  future,  and  mean- 
time bring  him  up." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  said  whimsically, 
"that  if  you  are  yearning  to  'bring  some  one 
up,'  there's  your  houseful  of  brothers  and 
poor  little  me.  I'd  love  to  have  you  'bring 
me  up/" 

"My  brothers  are  mostly  brought  up. 
Flam,  Milt  and  Gus  are,  anyway.  Bobby 
has  too  much  individuality  to  be  brought 
up.  Bud  is  too  near  and  too  dear  to  Ma  to 
leave  her ;  and  as  for  Iry,  —  well,  I  am  very 
fond  of  Iry,  but  his  hairbreadth  escapes 
would  be  too  strenuous  for  continuous  per- 
formance. He  has  such  an  affinity  for  acci- 
dents, he'd  be  a  chronic  hospital  case  in 
town.  I  can't  explain  the  feeling  that  I 
must  have  Dumplings.  It's  as  if  a  stray 
little  kitten  had  fallen  at  my  feet." 

"May  I  be  permitted  to  ask  how  you  are 
going  to  provide  for  this  little  bag  of  bones?" 

"I'll  find  a  way.  Having  some  one  else 
to  support  besides  myself  will  make  me 
[121] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

hustle  more.  Nothing  like  an  incentive  for 
that." 

"May  I  help,  Amarilly?" 

"No;  Mr.  Deny." 

"I  can  give  him  his  recreations,  anyway." 

Amarilly  made  no  reply.  A  rising  wind 
and  a  fine,  flying  mist  that  whipped  stingingly 
across  the  open  car  brought  a  silence  that 
lasted  until  the  murky  shadows  of  the  farm- 
house came  into  view. 

The  car  swept  up  in  front  of  the  house  and 
at  the  first  sound  of  the  horn,  Mrs.  Jenkins' 
head  came  out  of  a  window,  and  she  hastened 
down  to  unbolt  the  door. 

Deny  carried  the  sleeping  Dumplings  up  to 
Amarilly's  room,  and  Pups,  proficient  in  the 
art  of  slinking,  and  recognizing  a  foe  to  dog- 
kind  in  Mrs.  Jenkins,  made  his  way  up-stairs, 
unobserved. 

When  Deny  had  gone,  Amarilly  removed 
the  few  inadequate  garments  Dumplings  was 
wearing  and  laid  him  down  in  an  impro- 
vised bed  she  had  made  for  him.  Then  she 
spied  Pups,  apologetic,  but  determined  in 
mien. 

"Ma's  death  on  dogs,"  she  thought,  "but  — 
well  —  here,  Pups,  —  curl  up  on  this  rug 
[1221 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

at  the  foot  of  Dumplings'  cot,  and  I'll  pre- 
tend not  to  see  you." 

Pups  obeyed  shiveringly,  but  with  a  furtive, 
protesting  look  in  his  eyes.  After  Amarilly 
was  in  bed,  she  heard  a  stealthy  step,  a  swift 
leap,  followed  by  a  long-drawn  sigh  of  satis- 
faction. Investigating,  she  found  that  Pups 
had  burrowed  under  the  cot  covers  and  was 
snuggled  up  close  to  Dumplings,  whose  little 
hand  even  in  sleep  had  felt  for  and  found  his 
guardian. 

"Far  be  it  from  me,"  thought  Amarilly, 
"to  break  ranks  and  hearts  under  such 
conditions." 


123 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"   A  MARILLY,"   asked   Mrs.   Jenkins    at 

•^A-  breakfast    the    next    morning,  "what 

on  airth  be  you  a-goin'  to  do  with  that  child  ?  " 

"Give  him  a  bath  as  soon  as  he  wakes," 
replied  Amarilly,  after  a  moment's  thought. 
"He's  just  a  little  bunch  of  skin  and  I  want 
you  to  feed  him  for  a  week  or  so.  By  that 
time  he  should  be  in  condition  to  go  into  town 
with  me." 

"Now,  Amarilly  Jenkins,  it  seems  to  me 
you  ain't  got  so  much  common  sense  as  you 
uster  hev.  I  s'pose  you  had  to  trade  off 
some  of  it  for  eddication.  You  can't  have 
everything  in  this  world." 

"You  was  findin'  it  hard  sleddin'  to  take 
keer  of  yerself,  Amarilly,"  gently  reminded 
the  Boarder. 

"You  know  the  matrimonial  bureaus  say 

it's  cheaper  for  two  to  live  than  for  one,  and 

it's  lonesome  living  alone.     I  think,  maybe, 

I'll  get  one  of  those  tiny  housekeeping  flats 

[124] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

for  Dumplings  and  me,  only  —  there's  Pups. 
He's  the  rub." 

"Pups!"  demanded  Mrs.  Jenkins. 

"Yes;  you  must  know  the  worst,  Ma. 
There's  a  dog  goes  with  Dumplings,  and 
you  might  as  well  try  to  separate  the  salt 
from  the  ocean  as  to  part  them." 

"Where  is  the  dog  now  ?"  she  asked  sternly. 

"He's  in  bed  with  Dumplings." 

"Ircbed!" 

"Yes,"  laughed  Amarilly.  "All  of  him 
that  could  get  in  is.  He's  quite  a  large  dog ; 
at  least,  his  frame  is  big,  but  he  made  him- 
self into  a  threadlike  form  and  slunk  up 
behind  you  last  night.  He  seemed  to  be 
wise  to  your  dog-views." 

"He  stayed  there  all  night?"  gasped  Mrs. 
Jenkins  faintly. 

"He's  an  unusual  dog,"  replied  Amarilly, 
"but  as  I  was  saying,  I'll  keep  house  after 
a  fashion  when  I  find  a  place  in  town." 

"You  can  take  back  enough  stuff  from  here 
to  feed  you  both  —  three,  I  mean,"  said  her 
mother.  "It  won't  hinder  you  from  comin' 
home  Saturdays,  will  it?" 

"No,    indeed.     Dumplings    is    undersized, 
and  I  can  smuggle  him  through  free." 
[1251 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

After  breakfast  Amarilly  went  down  to 
the  meadow  with  Gus  to  inspect  his  herd. 
When  she  came  back  to  the  house,  Dumplings, 
arrayed  in  some  of  his  donated  clothing, 
followed  by  Pups,  came  running  to  meet 
her. 

Viewed  in  the  daylight,  Dumplings  was 
a  little  sliver  of  a  lad  with  eyes  that  were 
prominent,  not  from  size,  but  from  tautness 
of  the  skin  about  them.  Pups  was  long 
and  lean  and  yellow ;  awkward  and  ambling ; 
untrimmed  as  to  tail  and  ears,  but  with  eyes 
so  brown  and  beautiful,  so  earnest  and  appeal- 
ing as  to  lift  him  far  above  his  station  in 
dogdom. 

"That  kid's  been  watchin'  the  medder 
path  every  minute  since  I  washed  and  dressed 
him,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins,  as  they  came  up 
to  the  back  porch.  "Hungry  as  he  was, 
'twas  all  I  could  do  ter  git  him  away  from  the 
door  long  enough  to  eat." 

"Why,  Dumplings,  you  didn't  think  I'd 
run  away  from  you,  did  you?" 

"Every  one  else  has,"  he  replied  in  a  matter 
of  fact  tone,  "'cept  Pups.  They  all  run 
away,  or  died,  or  something." 

"Now,  Dumplings,  there  are  too  many 
ri26l 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

of  us  to  run  away  and  we're  too  healthy 
to  die  right  off.  You'll  always  be  here  or 
with  me  from  now  on." 

"Why?"  asked  Dumplings  wonderingly. 

"Because  I  want  you." 

Dumplings  pondered  over  this  situation 
for  a  moment. 

"Then  maybe  I'll  stay  put  this  time," 
he  said  with  a  sigh.  "No  one  ever  wanted 
me  before  except  father,  and  he  died.  Daddy 
died,  too,  and  Old  Man  Snyder ;  but  Hugh 
just  went  away  and  so  did  the  others." 

"Seems  to  have  had  a  lot  of  hist'ry  for 
one  so  young,"  observed  the  Boarder,  who 
with  the  rest  of  the  family  had  come  up  to 
view  the  newcomers. 

Attention  was  diverted  from  Dumplings  by 
the  mad  home-rush  of  Pups,  who  had  been 
indulging  in  a  merry-go-round  with  some 
hens.  Lily  Rose  gave  a  little  cry  of  distress 
as  he  neared  her  pet  aster  bed,  but  with  a 
hound-like  leap  he  cleared  it,  landing  ignomin- 
iously  in  the  midst  of  some  upturned  milk- 
pans. 

"My!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Jenkins,  when  the 
din  had  subsided,  "that  Pups  looks  like  he 
belonged  in  a  skelerton  museum." 
[127] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Dumplings  seemed  to  sense  the  fact  that 
his  beloved  Pups  wasn't  appearing  at  his  best. 

"Pups,"  he  said  anxiously,  "say  your 
prayers." 

Instantly  Pups'  forefeet  sought  the  milk- 
bench,  and  with  eyes  devoutly  uprolled, 
he  gave  three  exhortant  barks. 

"Amen!"  came  in  tone  of  military  com- 
mand from  the  little  master,  and  Pups  forth- 
with returned  to  all  fours.  He  responded 
with  alacrity  to  the  enthusiastic  encore  of 
the  delighted  children,  who  proceeded  to 
reward  him  with  scraps  from  the  breakfast 
table. 

"He  sure  can  eat,"  observed  Mrs.  Jenkins. 
"We  won't  need  no  garbage  can  while  he's 
here.  I  hope  Dumplings  gits  as  good  an 
appertite.  Whenever  he  goes  to  smile,  like 
he  done  when  he  seen  you  comin',  I'm  afeered 
his  face'll  crack." 

"I've  got  muscle,"  boasted  Dumplings, 
doubling  his  slender  arm." 

"That's  what  he  has,"  admired  the  Boarder 
as  he  felt  the  proffered  member.  "All  mus- 
cle ;  not  a  farthin'  o'  fat." 

"We'll  get  5em  both  fed  up,"  said  Lily 
Rose. 

[1281 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Can  I  have  something  to  eat  now  ?"  asked 
Dumplings. 

"Not  until  ten  o'clock,"  decreed  Amarilly. 
"Then  you  can  have  a  glass  of  milk  and  a 
cookie." 

"Let  him  have  it  now,"  pleaded  Cory. 
"Are  you  dreadful  hungry?"  she  asked, 
turning  to  him  sympathetically. 

"No;"  he  answered.  "I'm  not  hungry  at 
all." 

"Then  why  eat?"  asked  Amarilly. 

"I  want  to  eat  while  the  eating's  good," 
he  explained.  "Maybe  I  won't  find  another 
place  where  there's  so  much  to  eat,  so  I'd 
like  to  get  filled  up  to  the  top." 

"That's  the  stuff,"  said  the  delighted 
Boarder. 

"You're  not  a  camel,  or  a  cold  storage," 
laughed  Amarilly,  "so  you'll  not  eat  until 
it's  time." 

Dumplings  appeared  to  be  perfectly  ac- 
quiescent to  this  arrangement  and  suddenly 
asked : 

"Where's  the  big  man,  ma'am?" 

"  He's  coming  to-day  to  see  you,  but  you  can 
call  me  Amarilly  just  as  my  other  brothers  do." 

"Am  I  going  to  be  your  brother?" 
[1291 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Certainly  you  are." 

"And  she'll  be  some  sister,5'  Bud  informed 
him. 

"Come  out  to  the  barnyard  with  me  and 
see  all  the  little  chickens  and  things,  Dump- 
lings," said  Amarilly. 

"Huh !  There  ith  no  little  chicken th  thith 
time  of  year,"  scoffed  Iry,  who  resented  this 
invasion  of  a  "little  brother." 

Dumplings'  wonder  and  delight  at  the 
novelty  of  farmyard  inmates  brought  a  faint 
misgiving  to  Amarilly  as  to  the  wisdom  of 
lier  plan  for  his  upbringing. 

"Dumplings,"  she  asked  abruptly,  "where 
would  you  rather  live,  here  on  the  farm  where 
there  are  chickens  and  Iambs  and  children 
to  play  with  and  everything  to  eat,  or  in  a 
•city  with  just  me?" 

"I  don't  mind,"  he  said,  "so  long  as  I'm 
with  you  and  Pups." 

"Oh,  Dumplings!  No  one  ever  liked  me 
as  well  as  that  before.  Sit  down  here  under 
the  shade  of  this  apple  tree  and  tell  me  all 
you  can  remember  about  yourself." 

When  Dumplings  had  exhausted  the  con- 
tents of  his  meagre  memory,  Amarilly  sighed 
and  gazed  plaintively  away  over  the  fields. 
[130] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Back  in  the  old  days,  we  used  to  think 
we  had  troubles,"  she  thought.  "Maybe 
we  did ;  but  not  tragedies.  There  are  much 
worse  things  than  poverty  after  all ;  but  it's 
a  plain  case  of  '  ignorance  is  bliss '  with  Dump- 
lings." 

"Just  in  time,"  exclaimed  Lily  Rose,  as 
they  came  into  the  house.  "Long  distance 
is  calling." 

She  found  Courville  on  the  line. 

"I  can't  get  home  before  evening,"  he 
said,  "but  I  am  sending  the  little  fellow  out 
some  playthings  by  Jerry.  Is  he  all  right?" 

"Let  him  talk  to  you.  Come  here,  Dump- 
lings and  talk  to  the  Big  Man." 

"Hullo,  Big  Man!"  shouted  Dumplings 
lustily. 

The  response  was  a  little  delayed. 

"Halloa,  Little  Man  !     How  do  you  feel  ?" 

"Bully!" 

"That's  good.  I  am  sending  you  out 
some  playthings.  You  must  share  them 
with  Iry  and  Ceely." 

"You  bet  you  ! "  assured  Dumplings  readily. 

Jerry  Pryne  soon  arrived  with  a  wonder- 
ful  assortment  .of   toys   which   the  children 
were  loth  to  leave  even  for  dinner. 
[131] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  don't  see  where  that  child  puts  his 
food,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins,  watching  Dump- 
lings. "He  don't  seem  to  have  no  inerds. 
He  ought  to  have  a  nap  now,  Amarilly,  after 
all  he's  went  through." 

"Huh!  I  ain't  a  baby!"  protested  the 
boy. 

"You'll  look  like  one  if  you  don't  hurry 
up  and  grow,  and  sleeping  will  help.  Sup- 
pose we  go  upstairs  and  you  can  look  at  pic- 
tures in  your  new  books  until  you  are  sleepy," 
coaxed  Amarilly. 

"Yes;  and  then  perhaps  that  critter'll 
lay  down  if  you  do,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins. 
"He's  so  lively  since  he's  been  fed  up  that 
he's  tearin'  everything  up  by  the  roots. 
Look  at  him  scarin'  them  hens  !" 

"Come,  Pups,"  called  Dumplings. 

Pups  responded  with  an  alacrity  that 
made  havoc  in  the  barnyard  community, 
scattering  shrieking  chickens  in  all  directions. 
He  paused  en  route  only  long  enough  to 
push  a  couple  of  kittens  from  a  saucer  of 
milk  which  he  disposed  of  with  three  laps 
of  his  tongue. 

"Amarilly,"  exclaimed  Mrs.    Jenkins   pity- 
ingly, "what  kind  of  a  dog  is  he?" 
[132] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Seems  to  be  an  assorted  lot,"  commented 
the  Boarder." 

"He's  just  dog,"  said  Dumplings  indig- 
nantly. 

"And  a  darling  one,"  agreed  Amarilly. 
"Please,  Pups,  don't  be  so  free  with  your 
tongue." 

Upstairs,  when  Dumplings  was  removing 
his  blouse,  Amarilly  shivered  at  sight  of  his 
emaciated  little  body. 

"I  am  thankful  there  are  no  bruises," 
she  thought.  "No  one  ever  struck  you 
or  beat  you,  did  they?"  she  asked  him 
fearfully. 

"No;  'cept  Mother.  She  used  to  get  mad 
and  slap  me  and  then  she'd  give  me  choco- 
lates. It  made  Hugh  laugh.  He  said  she'd 
cut  a  fellow's  throat  and  then  offer  to  sew 
it  up  for  him." 

Amarilly's  laugh  was  slightly  hysterical. 

"Of  all  Dumplings'  knights  —  or  his 
mother's  —  I  believe  Hugh  was  the  flower," 
she  thought.  "Well,  I  remember  when  I 
was  Dumplings'  age,  my  sympathies  were 
always  with  the  villain  in  the  play." 

When  Dumplings  was  comfortably  settled 
in  his  cot,  she  began  to  read  to  him  a  little 
[133] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

story  from  one  of  his  new  books.  Glancing 
up  presently,  she  saw  that  he  was  evidently 
not  listening. 

"I  don't  like  that,"  he  said  disdainfully. 
"Say,  can't  you  get  a  paper  and  read  me 
about  a  baseball  game?" 

"Bless  you,  Dumplings!  You're  a  boy 
after  my  own  heart." 

She  found  a  newspaper  Derry  had  left 
for  the  Boarder  and  read  the  account  of  a 
game  between  the  Tigers  and  the  Red  Sox. 

"That's  the  stuff!"  he  approved,  when 
she  had  finished.  "I  slid  into  the  park  most 
every  game  this  summer.  Read  some  more." 

"I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  she  replied. 
"Shut  your  eyes  now  and  try  to  sleep." 

He  obeyed,  but  in  a  moment  his  eyes  and 
mouth  opened  simultaneously. 

"Say,  Amarilly,  what  makes  the  Big  Man 
so  good  to  me?" 

"If  I  tell  you,  Dumplings,  will  you  promise 
you  won't  open  your  eyes  or  speak  again  until 
you  have  slept?" 

"Sure,"  he  replied. 

"It's  because  your  father  was  a  Mason." 

"Nope,"  he  said  decidedly.  "He  wasn't. 
There  wasn't  any  of  them  masons.  Hugh 
[134] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

was  on  the  road.  Daddy  kept  a  store.  Old 
Man  Snyder  did  odd  jobs  and  sharpened 
scissors.  I  can't  remember  what  the  rest 
of  them  did,  but  none  of  'em  digged  cellars 
like  Buck's  father  did." 

Amarilly  explained  to  him  as  well  as  she 
could  the  meaning  of  the  term.  The  diffi- 
culty of  conveying  to  his  limited  understand- 
ing the  definition  of  Masonry  was  somewhat 
lessened  by  the  fact  that  he  and  "some  other 
kids"  had  once  belonged  to  a  secret  society. 

"That  was  the  kind  of  a  Mason  your  father 
was  and  that  the  Big  Man  is ;  so  that's  what 
makes  him  so  interested  in  you." 

"How  did  he  find  out  my  father  was  one 
of  them?"  he  asked. 

"Because  of  that  little  pin  we  found  on 
your  shirt.  He  showed  it  to  everyone  on  the 
train,  and  all  those  that  were  Masons  and 
wore  the  same  kind  of  a  pin  gave  some  money 
to  help  take  care  of  you.  One  Mason's  wife 
gave  you  all  these  nice  clothes." 

"Did  you  bring  me  out  here  and  keep  me 
because  I  had  on  that  pin?" 

"No,"  she  replied  quickly.  "That  made 
no  difference  to  me.  I  told  you  I  just  wanted 
you." 

[135] 


AMAKILLY  IN  LOVE 

Dumplings  closed  his  eyes  and  lay  so  quiet 
that  she  was  stealing  from  the  room,  when  he 
said: 

"It  ain't  any  use,  Amarilly.  I  ain't 
sleepy." 

"Lie  still,  and  you'll  rest  anyway." 

She  went  downstairs  and  when  she  came 
back  to  call  him  to  supper,  he  was  staring 
at  the  ceiling  and  there  were  two  red  spots 
on  his  cheeks  that  made  her  fearful  of  fever. 

He  came  down  to  supper,  but  didn't  eat 
with  his  former  avidity,  nor  did  he  talk  very 
much. 

After  the  dishes  were  washed,  the  Jenkins 
family,  with  the  exception  of  Amarilly,  went 
to  the  Grange  Hall  to  witness  an  entertain- 
ment in  which  "Flammy's  girl"  was  to  take 
part. 

"I  guess  the  Big  Man  didn't  come  home 
after  all,"  Amarilly  told  Dumplings,  "but 
you'll  see  him  to-morrow.  I  think  you  had 
better  go  to  bed." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Dumplings  apatheti- 
cally, as  he  and  Pups  followed  her  upstairs. 

"Dumplings,"  she  asked  hesitatingly  when 
he  was   undressed,    "don't   you  ever   say  a 
prayer  before  you  go  to  bed  ?" 
[1361 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  used  to,"  said  Dumplings  contentedly, 
"but  I  don't  have  to  any  more." 

"Why  not?" 

"'Cause  Pups  says  'em  for  both  of  us. 
Prayers,  Pups !" 

Pups  performed  the  dual  devotions,  and 
Dumplings  crept  into  his  cot. 

"I  don't  know  how  to  preach,"  thought 
Amarilly,  in  answer  to  the  protest  of  her 
conscience.  "I'll  get  Mr.  St.  John  to  set 
him  right." 

"Dumplings,"  she  remonstrated,  as  Pups 
prepared  to  follow  his  young  master  to  cover, 
"I  had  to  tease  Ma  to  let  Pups  stay  up  here 
in  the  room,  even.  She  draws  the  line  at 
his  getting  into  bed  with  you." 

"Down,  Pups,"  commanded  Dumplings 
sadly  but  emphatically. 

Pups  looked  at  him  steadily  and  cocked 
one  ear  in  wistful  inquiry. 

"Did  he  always  sleep  with  you?"  asked 
Amarilly,  weakening. 

"Ever  since  I  had  him.  You  see  he  came 
to  me  on  a  cold  night  last  spring  when  I  had 
begun  to  keep  myself.  He  was  littler  then 
and  I  kept  him  warm  at  night.  Then,  when 
he  got  bigger,  he  kept  me  warm." 
[137] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Up,  Pups!"  said  Amarilly  decisively. 

With  alacrity  Pups  accepted  his  restora- 
tion to  duty  and  was  "up"  and  under  cover. 

"Oh,  Pups!"  sighed  Amarilly,  as  she  be- 
stowed a  caress  on  boy  and  dog  alike.  "There 
is  no  love  so  loyal  as  that  of  a  dog  for  his 
master." 

An  hour  later  Courville  arrived. 

"Couldn't  make  it  sooner,"  he  said.  "Are 
you  all  alone  here?" 

"Except  Dumplings  and  Pups.  They  are 
in  bed." 

"Hasn't  he  any  relatives?  Just  a  little 
outcast?" 

"Yes,  poor  Dumplings!  His  life  seems  to 
have  been  a  series  of  stepfathers.  Such  a 
pitiful  little  tale  it  sounded,  only  he  doesn't 
know  it's  pitiful.  I  hope  the  memory  of  it 
fades  before  he  is  old  enough  to  realize  it." 

"Tell  it  to  me." 

"I'll  repeat  it  just  as  he  told  it  to  me  and 
you  can  interpret.  He  said  he  and  his  mother 
ran  away  one  night  on  a  train  and  went  to 
live  with  Hugh,  and  then  his  father  died. 
After  a  while  Hugh  went  away  and  never 
came  back.  So  they  left  the  nice  hotel  and 
when  they  had  spent  all  their  money,  mother 
[1381 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

married  daddy  and  they  lived  in  a  little 
house.  Daddy  died  and  there  was  some- 
one else  and  he  went  away.  Mother  died 
and  he  and  his  last  daddy  lived  together 
for  awhile  and  then  daddy  left  him  with  a 
poor  lady.  WTien  daddy  stopped  sending 
money  he  had  to  sell  papers  to  pay  her  for 
his  food.  Then  one  day  the  poor  lady  went 
away  to  live  with  her  son.  She  was  going 
to  put  Dumplings  in  an  orphan  asylum,  but 
Old  Man  Snyder,  who  sharpened  scissors,  let 
him  come  to  live  with  him.  WTien  he  died, 
Dumplings  ran  away  and  has  been  sleeping 
in  a  piano  box  in  an  alley  with  Pups  to  keep 
him  warm.  He  sold  papers  for  his  'eats.'" 

By  the  end  of  this  recital  Courville's  long 
hand  was  shading  his  face.  Amarilly  made 
pretence  of  going  up  to  see  if  Dumplings  was 
all  right.  She  found  him  awake. 

"Big  Man  down  there?"  he  asked,  sitting 
up  excitedly,  and  Pups  following  suit. 

"Yes ;   shall  I  bring  him  up  to  see  you ?" 

A  compelling  little  hand  clutched  at  her 
skirts  as  she  started  to  leave. 

"Put  out  the  light.  I  want  to  tell  him 
something,  and  it's  easier  telling  things  in 
the  dark." 

[139] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Amarilly  extinguished  the  lamp  and  went 
down  to  deliver  Dumplings'  request. 

Courville  seemed  reluctant  to  comply. 

"  I  suppose  I  must,  if  the  little  fellow  wants 
me,  but  you  know,  Amarilly,  why  it  hurts 
me  even  to  look  at  a  boy." 

"I  know,"  she  said  gently,  "but  I  think 
maybe  if  you  were  accustomed  to  seeing  one 
around  constantly,  after  the  first  pang  it 
would  be  easier  and  you  might  be  happier." 

"No,"  he  said  resolutely. 

He  followed  her  slowly  up  the  stairs. 

"You  won't  have  to  watch  your  step,"  she 
said.  "The  moonlight  makes  a  path  most 
of  the  way." 

He  crossed  the  big  room  to  the  little  cot 
which  was  in  the  shadow. 

"Well,  Dumplings,  old  man,"  he  said,  tak- 
ing the  small  hand  in  his,  "how  are  you 
coming?" 

The  little  hand  tightened  about  his,  and 
Pups,  who  had  been  alert  to  see  what  manner 
of  man  the  newcomer  was,  manifested  his 
approval  by  laying  his  head  upon  the  pillow 
and  relaxing  to  reposeful  state. 

"Say!"  said  a  small  voice  huskily,  "you 
know  that  pin  what  was  in  my  shirt?" 
[140] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Yes,  Dumplings.  I'm  going  to  give  it 
back  to  you  to  keep  until  you  are  a  man. 
You  must  be  very  careful  of  it." 

"'TwaVt  dad's  nor  none  of  them's.  Bill 
Hawks  swiped  it  off  a  man's  coat,  and  I  won 
it  from  him  matching  pennies." 

There  was  an  instant's  silence. 

"Dumplings,  I  envy  you,"  said  Courville, 
laughing  softly.  "You  have  squared  your- 
self from  the  charge  of  appearing  as  an  impos- 
tor, but  I  never  can.  I  won't  be  able  to 
trace  those  deluded  Masons  who  opened  their 
hearts  and  pockets  so  generously." 

"Never  mind,"  consoled  Amarilly  cheer- 
fully. "They  were  giving  for  the  cause  and 
they  have  laid  up  treasures  for  themselves 
in  Heaven." 

"I'll  donate  the  money  I  collected  to  some 
needy  widows  and  orphans  of  Masons,  and 
put  an  equal  sum  to  Dumplings'  credit." 

"She  said,"  continued  Dumplings,  indi- 
cating Amarilly,  "that  you  gave  me  all  my 
toys  and  things  on  account  of  that  pin.  You 
can  take  them  back.  They  ain't  spoiled  any." 

Courville  laid  his  hand  lightly  on  the  little 
flushed  face. 

"Oh,  Dumplings,"  he  said  in  remonstrance. 
[141] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"She  don't  care  because  I  didn't  have  a 
Mason  for  a  dad !"  declared  Dumplings,  with 
a  little  catch  in  his  tone.  "She  wants  me." 

"So  do  I,  Dumplings,"  said  Courville, 
snatching  him  from  the  cot  and  holding  him 
close.  "I  thought  it  was  on  account  of 
that  little  pin  that  I  cared  for  you,  but  I  see 
it  wasn't.  It  is  on  account  of  a  little  boy  I 
once  knew  —  a  little  boy  who  died.  There 
are  two  people  now  who  claim  possession  of 
your  small  person.  You'll  have  to  decide 
which  one  shall  have  you,  Amarilly  or  the 
'Big  Man.'" 

Dumplings'  small'  heart  thrilled  at  the 
recollection  of  the  strong  arms  that  had 
pulled  him  from  the  wreck,  and  he  was  feel- 
ing now  how  good  it  was  to  rest  in  those 
same  arms  again,  but  something  drew  him 
to  the  girl  who  had  wanted  him.  He  didn't 
hesitate  long.  His  mind  was  quite  made  up. 

"You  can  both  have  me,"  he  said  cheer- 
fully. "I  want  you  both." 

Courville  laughed  —  a  little,  soft,  musical 
laugh  that  thrilled  Amarilly. 

"Then,  you  must  mind  us  both.     Will  you 
shut  your  eyes  and  go  to  sleep  now  that  you 
know  we  both  want  you  ?" 
[142] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Yes." 

"Then,  good  night,  son." 

Courville  felt  two  little  arms  about  his 
neck  and  a  soft  mouth  pressed  to  his.  Pups 
whined  wistfully  and  made  longing  laps  at 
space  with  his  tongue. 

When  they  were  downstairs  in  the  living 
room,  again,  Amarilly  noted  a  new,  odd  ex- 
pression in  Courville's  dark  eyes. 

"There  is  so  much  in  life  for  me  to  learn," 
thought  Amarilly.  "I  don't  seem  to  have 
come  in  contact  before  with  heart  emotions. 
People  as  poor  as  we  had  no  time  for  sensa- 
tions other  than  purely  physical  ones  — 
like  hunger  and  cold  and  fear.  Even  when 
Bud  was  sick,  we  had  to  work  so  hard  we 
couldn't  find  time  to  think  about  it." 

"What's  his  other  name?"  asked  Cour- 
ville suddenly. 

"Phillip."" 

"I  mean  his  last  name."  k 

"He  really  doesn't  know.  He  seems  to 
have  taken  on  everyone's  surname. 
'Daddy's'  name  was  Truax.  He  can't  re- 
member his  father's  name,  and  Hugh  didn't 
seem  to  possess  one.  Snyder^was  the  last 
one  Dumplings  adopted." 
[143] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"We  must  find  out.  It's  only  fair  to  him 
and  to  his  parents.  Does  he  know  the  'poor 
lady's  '  name?" 

"Ellis,"  recalled  Amarilly,  "and  she  went 
to  live  with  her  son,  Napoleon." 

"That's  some  data  to  start  with  anyway. 
I'll  put  a  detective  to  work.  Didn't  the 
child  have  any  belongings?" 

"He  said  he  once  had  a  little  box  of  keep- 
sakes, but  probably  they  were  in  'Old  Man 
Snyder's'  possession." 

"We'll  unearth  them  for  a  clue." 

"He  must  have  come  of  good  stock,"  said 
Amarilly.  "That  was  fine  in  him  to  confess 
about  the  pin.  And  as  much  as  I  want  him, 
I  think  you  would  be  happier  if  you  had  him 
with  you." 

Something  in  his  expression  as  he  gazed 
at  her  disconcerted  Amarilly. 

"Suppose,"  he  said  after  a  moment,  "we 
don't  decide  that  just  at  present.  I  have  to  go 
West  day  after  to-morrow  on  a  business  trip 
and  I  may'  be  away  for  four  or  five  months. 
Keep  Dumplings  in  trust  for  me  until  my 
return,  anyway.  I  will  look  after  the  financial 
part  of  the  guardianship.  Have  you  de- 
cided where  you  will  live?" 
[144] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  suppose  the  farm  would  be  the  best 
place  for  him  —  in  a  sense,  but  I  couldn't 
go  back  and  forth  every  day.  I  fear  no 
apartment  would  admit  both  Dumplings  and 
Pups.  If  I  might  split  the  difference  between 
city  and  country !  Why,  I  can !  There's 
the  Marsdens  at  Oakridge.  They  have  a 
straggling  little  house  with  a  wing  which 
they  never  use.  There  would  be  a  garden 
for  Dumplings  to  play  in  —  a  nice  school 
near  and  Miss  Roxy  to  look  after  them  while 
I  am  away.  She  adores  children  and  dogs." 

"The  very  place.     I'll  rent  it  — " 

" No,"  refused  Amarilly.  "I've  agreed  to 
let  you  pay  Dumplings'  expenses,  but  you 
can't  include  mine.  We'll  divide  the  rent 
and  the  living  expenses." 

"Amarilly,"  began  Courville  softly,  but 
he  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Gus 
and  Cory. 

"The  show  wasn't  very  good,"  said  the 
latter,  "so  we  slipped  out." 

"You  look  —  grown-up,  Cory,"  said  Cour- 
ville, inspecting  her  approvingly. 

"It's  my  clothes,"  she  explained  proudly. 
"Amarilly  made  me  this  dress  and  fixed  my 
hair  different." 

[145] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ON  the  outskirts  of  the  suburban  town  of 
Oakridge' was  a[  straggling,  little,  white 
cottage  nestling  in  a  little  rosebud  garden 
bordered  by  a  little  green  hedge.  This  was 
the  home  of  Sydney  Marsden  and  his  sister, 
Miss  Roxy. 

For  sundry  reasons  such  as  being  im- 
practicable, expensive  to  make,  infringement 
on  other  inventors'  domain  and  a  general 
lack  of  interest  on  the  part  of  an  unapprecia- 
tive  public,  Marsden's  patents  were  not 
remunerative;  on  the  contrary  they  were  as 
expensive  as  excess  baggage.  At  the  psy- 
chological moment  something  in  his  inven- 
tions fell  short  of  expectations.  Perhaps  it 
was  because  he  tacked  in  so  many  directions 
that  he  sailed  in  none. 

Miss  Roxy  was  not  enthusiastic  over  her 
brother's  patents.  She  vaguely  associated 
them  with  uncanny,  incomprehensible  things 
like  the  moving  of  tables,  or  planchette 
writing. 

[146] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

One  by  one  she  had  gradually  removed  to 
a  storeroom  the  pieces  of  furniture  and 
domestic  utensils  he  had  improvised,  replacing 
them  by  more  conventional  substitutes. 

Under  the  drain  of  patent  rights,  Sydney 
Marsden's  patrimony  had  slowly  and  surely 
dwindled,  a  fact  that  did  not  disturb  his 
absent-minded  serenity.  His  more  practical 
sister,  however,  eagerly  grasped  at  the  oppor- 
tunity to  rent  the  little  wing  of  the  cottage  to 
Amarilly. 

"It  isn't  furnished,  though,  except  for 
curtains  and  carpets,"  she  explained. 

"I  can  copy  the  Japanese  style  of  furnish- 
ing," laughed  Amarilly.  "A  screen  and  a 
tall  vase,  say,  for  the  sitting-room,  or,  maybe 
we  can  find  some  second  hand  things." 

"There's  the  patent  furniture,"  suggested 
Miss  Roxy  doubtfully.  _ 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Amarilly  hope- 
fully. 

Miss  Roxy  led  the  way  to  the  storeroom, 
and  Sydney  Marsden  followed  to  give  a 
demonstration  of  his  exhibits.  Amarilly  was 
enthusiastic  and  immediately  rented  the 
"junk"  as  Miss  Roxy  called  the  portable 
furniture,  and  all  hands,  including  the  de- 
[147] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

lighted  Dumplings,  proceeded  to  make  the 
transfer. 

"It's  lucky  they  are  made  after  the 
accordion  style,"  said  Amarilly,  "or  we  could 
never  have  got  them  through  the  doorways." 

When  Amarilly,  Dumplings  and  Pups  had 
taken  possession  of  their  new  quarters,  the 
Merediths  and  Derry  Phillips  were  invited  to 
a  house  warming. 

Awaiting  the  arrival  of  her  guests,  Amarilly 
stood  in  the  doorway,  her  eyes  shining  like 
those  of  a  little  girl  giving  her  first  party. 

"Haven't  you  furnished  yet?"  asked  Derry 
wonderingly ;  as  he  gazed  about  the  scantily 
appointed  room. 

Dumplings  chuckled  and  began  to  touch 
springs  and  push  buttons.  A  couch  came 
down  and  unfolded.  Some  boards  against  a 
wall  became  chairs.  Something  resembling 
a  breadboard  expanded,  developed  legs  and 
asserted  itself  as  a  table. 

"Goodness!"  cried  Colette.  "I  feel  as  if 
I  were  in  a  conjuror's  house.  I  shall  be  in  a 
state  of  suspended  breath  for  fear  this  come- 
and-go  furniture  will  close  in,  or  double  up, 
and  then  where  shall  we  all  be,  I  should  like 
to  know?" 

[148] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Amarilly  led  the  way  to  the  other  diminu- 
tive rooms. 

"Guess  where  my  bed  is  ?"  said  Dumplings. 

"I  guess  that  you  have  none,"  replied 
Deny,  "unless  it's  that  thing  in  the  corner 
that  looks  like  a  closet  shelf." 

Dumplings  proudly  manipulated  the  "thing 
in  the  corner"  until  it  came  down,  doubled 
in  size.  A  mattress  appeared,  seemingly 
from  oblivion. 

"I  believe  you  had  it  up  your  sleeve," 
declared  Derry. 

When  they  returned  to  the  sitting-room, 
Amarilly  introduced  them  to  another  marvel. 
It  was  one  of  those  cool  autumn  nights  that 
suddenly  slip  in  a  frost  and  the  furnace  in 
the  Marsden  cottage  was  evidently  turned  on 
by  calendar  instead  of  by  barometer.  She 
pressed  a  button  on  a  small  object  of  stove- 
like  shape  and  instantly  a  pipe  shot  up  after 
the  manner  of  moving  picture  cartoons  and 
conveniently  connected  with  a  stovepipe  hole. 
Some  patent  kindling  wood  was  broken  up 
and  placed  in  the  stove.  The  fuel  was  added 
and  presently  a  most  agreeable  warmth  came 
forth. 

"Mr.  Marsden  must  be  a  wizard,"  declared 
[149] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

John  Meredith.  "Hasn't  he  marketed  any 
of  these  miracles?" 

"No,"  said  Amarilly,  the  sober  little 
expression  that  was  so  apt  to  steal  over  her 
features  quickly  intensifying.  "You  see  none 
of  them  has  been  perfected.  They  have 
shown  off  beautifully  this  evening,  but  they 
don't  always  respond  so  agreeably,  and  Dump- 
lings so  loves  to  work  them  that  I  expect  I 
shall  come  home  some  night  and  find  them  all 
collapsed." 

"He  won't  need  any  playthings,"  remarked 
Meredith,  smiling. 

"It's  like  a  fairy  story  house,"  said  Dump- 
lings. 

"It  sure  is,"  agreed  Derry.  "Better  than 
Meccano  stuff.  I  am  quite  crazy  over  it, 
myself." 

"I  was  nearly  crazy,  too,"  said  Amarilly, 
"while  I  was  learning  to  manipulate  them.  I 
tried  to  light  the  dishwasher  instead  of  the 
cooker,  and  once  I  touched  the  button  sup- 
posed to  let  down  a  table.  Instantly  it 
delivered  a  bed  that  knocked  poor  Pups 
over." 

"I  shouldn't  dare  touch  anything,"  said 
Colette.  "I  might  get  a  steamboat  or  a 
[1501 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

house  and  lot  on  my  hands.  Why  not  make 
out  a  card  index?" 

"Speaking  of  Pups,"  said  Deny,  "I  want 
to  renew  my  acquaintance  with  him." 

"I'll  bring  him  in,"  volunteered  Dumplings. 

"I  didn't  like  the  partnership  arrangement 
with  the  Corners  man,"  admitted  Colette 
when  Dumplings  had  left  the  room,  "but 
Derry  said  to  wait  until  I  saw  Dumplings  and 
then  I  would  understand  things.  Why  didn't 
you  give  him  to  us,  Amarilly?" 

"My  answer  is,  Pups.  Wait  until  you  see 
him.  You  and  Mr.  St.  John  would  never 
have  opened  your  doors  to  him." 

"No!  indeed,  no!"  murmured  Colette, 
as  she  avoided  Pups'  forward  rush. 

"Why  don't  you  have  Mr.  Marsden  invent 
something  that  will  reduce  Pups  to  cottage 
size?"  asked  Derry. 

"I  don't  want  Pups  any  different,"  said 
Dumplings  seriously. 

"Of  course  not,"  agreed  Amarilly  emphati- 
cally. 

"What  is  Pups'  real  name?"  asked  John 
Meredith. 

"Just  Pups." 

"I  admit  the  appropriateness  of  the  plural," 
[151] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

he  said,  also  passing  on  Pups'  advances.  "He 
is  certainly  equal  to  six  of  the  single  tense 
ordinary  style." 

"Now,"  said  Amarilly,  "we  will  have  a 
little  patent  supper." 

Dumplings  quickly  made  the  table  into 
dining  size  while  Amarilly  busied  herself  in 
the  kitchenette,  which  was  provided  with  a 
"cooker",  a  sub-patent  for  eliminating  odors, 
and  various  other  housekeeping  devices.  She 
soon  prepared  and  served  a  meal,  after  which 
she  allowed  Derry  and  Dumplings  to  operate 
the  dishwasher. 

"I  haven't  had  such  fun,"  declared  the 
former,  "since  I  used  to  live  in  a  playhouse. 
I  shall  be  your  most  constant  caller." 

"Speaking  of  callers,"  said  Colette,  "John 
plans  to  call  on  a  superannuated  minister  who 
lives  in  this  vicinity.  We'll  motor  to  his  house 
and  pick  you  up,  Mr.  Phillips,  on  our  return." 

"Has  Courville  gone  West?"  asked  Derry 
abruptly,  when  the  Merediths  had  left. 

"Yes ;  he  left  sooner  than  he  had  planned, 
and  he  didn't  have  an  opportunity  to  see 
Dumplings  save  for  a  few  moments  the  night 
after  Dumplings  came  to  us." 

"And  it  was  dark,  then,"  supplemented 
[152] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Dumplings.     "I   wish   my   Big   Man    would 
hurry  home." 

"Won't  I  do  for  a  Big  Man  ?"  asked  Deny. 

"You  aren't  as  big  as  my  Big  Man,"  said 
Dumplings  positively. 

"Remember,  Mr.  Derry,"  reminded  Ama- 
rilly,  "if  you  were  where  Dumplings  was 
that  awful  night,  and  some  one  pulled  you 
out,  he'd  look  very  much  magnified  to  your 
vision.  No,  Dumplings,  dear,  he  isn't  the 
big  man;  he's  the  big  boy,  mostly." 

"I  like  that!"  quoth  Derry,  "but  a  big 
boy  can  manage  to  give  you  a  fine  time, 
Dumps.  We'll  have  some  rides  in  the  big 
car  you  rode  in  the  night  you  came  to  the 
farm,  only  you  were  asleep.  There's  one 
final  baseball  game  yet,  and  all  the  football 
games  to  follow.  We'll  take  them  in." 

"That'll  be  great!"  cried  Dumplings 
excitedly,  "  I  like  you,  Mr.  — 

"You  may  call  me  Mr.  Derry  as  your 
near  sister  does.  What's  your  other  name 
besides  Dumplings?" 

"Louis  Phillip  Snyder." 

"Why,  Dumplings!"  said  Amarilly  in  sur- 
prise.    "That  is  the  first  time  I  have  heard 
the  'Louis'  part  of  your  name." 
[153] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Nobody  ever  called  me  'Louis'  except 
father.  Mother  said  that  was  why  she  called 
me 'Phillip.'" 

"He's  said  it!"  observed  Deny  whim- 
sically. "A  whole  family  history,  or  tragedy, 
in  that  little  instance." 

"Dumplings  must  go  to  bed  now,"  said 
Amarilly. 

"I'll  come  in  and  say  good  night  when  you 
are  tucked  in  your  knock-down  bed,"  prom- 
ised Deny. 

"Ready  !"  called  Dumplings  presently  from 
his  room. 

"Goodness,  Dumps!"  said  Derry  sitting 
down  beside  the  little  bed,  "you  look  like  a 
Christmas  stocking  early  on  the  evening 
Santa  Claus  comes." 

"He'll  look  as  full  as  one  on  Christmas 
morning,"  prophesied  Amarilly,  "if  Miss 
Roxy  keeps  on  'piecing'  him  between 
meals." 

Further  conversation  was  prevented  by 
Pups  at  prayer. 

"Some  trick,"  applauded  Derry. 

"It  isn't  a  trick,"  said  Amarilly.  "It's 
getting  to  be  a  regular  habit,  and  unlike 
humans  all  his  prayers  are  answered.  Even 
[154] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Ma  has  fallen  under  his  power.  When  he 
upset  a  pan  of  milk  set  for  cream,  she  snatched 
the  broomstick,  but  Pups  immediately 
assumed  his  attitude  of  devotion  and  she 
stayed  her  hand." 

"Come  here,  Pups,"  commanded  Derry. 
"All  right,  only  come  with  less  allegro  move- 
ment. There  !  now  listen  to  me.  My  prayer 
has  not  been  answered.  Will  you  pray  for 
me,  if  I  prompt  you?" 

"He  won't  do  it  for  no  one  but  me,"  said 
Dumplings,  "or  else  for  something  for  him- 
self." 

"That  is  very  selfish  in  him,"  said  Derry. 

"I'll  pray  for  you,  Mr.  Derry,"  offered 
Dumplings,  getting  out  of  bed  and  coming 
up  to  him.  "I  haven't  said  any  prayers  for 
a  long  time,  but  I  guess  I  could." 

"It  must  be  a  silent  prayer,  Dumps," 
said  Derry,  whispering  something  in  the 
boy's  ear,  "and  you  are  not  to  tell  anyone  — " 

"Except  God,"  reminded  Dumplings 
gravely.  "I'll  tell  him  right  now." 

"I  hope  it's  a  good  prayer,"  said  Amarilly 
dubiously." 

"It's  a  dandy,"  assured  Dumplings,  "and 
I  shall  say  it  every  night." 
[155] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"While  you  are  praying,"  said  Amarilly, 
"remember  to  ask  to  be  a  good  boy." 

"But  I  am,  Amarilly.  Bill  Hawks  said  I 
was  too  darned  good." 

Derry's  laugh  was  discouraging  to  further 
religious  instruction,  so  Amarilly  ordered 
him  to  return  to  the  sitting-room. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  this  winter?" 
Amarilly  asked  him,  when  they  were  back  in 
the  living-room.  "Have  you  any  particular 
picture  in  mind?" 

"I've  a  beautiful  one  sketched  out  in  my 
mind's  eye,  if  I  can  only  materialize  it." 

"Tell  it  to  me,  Mr.  Deny." 

"It  might  fade  in  the  telling.  You  know 
when  you  tell  anything  it  loses  force.  Some 
plants  flourish  best  in  the  shade." 

It  was  not  with  her  plans,  Dumplings' 
future,  nor  Mr.  Derry's  picture  that  Amarilly's 
mind  was  occupied  that  night,  but  with  the 
problem  of  her  wardrobe  for  the  coming  winter. 

"It  will  be  trying  to  come  back  to  Cin- 
derella clothes,  and  my  little  last  year's 
things  are  not  in  line,"  she  thought  ruefully, 
"  but  then,  there  are  the  grand  furs  Mr.  Derry 
sent  me  for  Christmas,  and  furs  cover  a 
multitude  of  defects." 

[156] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XV 

NOW  that  I  have  acquired  a  home  and 
a  family,"  thought  Amarilly,  "I  shall 
have  to  see  to  their  up-keep.     I'll  apply  to 
Mr.  Blake  first." 

Her  name  won  instant  admission  to  his 
office. 

"The  Dumplings  boy  still  coming  on?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes;    sleeping  and  eating  overtime." 

"And  Pups?" 

"The  same.  We  have  set  up  housekeeping 
at  Oakridge,  Dumplings,  Pups  and  I.  I  had 
to  be  near  the  city,"  she  added,  answering 
his  look  of  surprise,  "because  I  have  to  earn 
our  living." 

"What  do  you  do?"  he  asked  interestedly. 

"I  have  been  typewriting  a  play  for  Mr. 
Lyle." 

"His  plays  lack  something,"  commented 
Blake.  "I  have  read  two." 

"Unfortunately  I  tried  to  tell  him  what 
they  lacked." 

[157] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"  Good !  I  am  sure  you  could  give  him 
pointers  on  plays  or  anything.  I  wasn't 
wrong  in  associating  you  with  the  stage. 
You  could  act,  I  feel  sure,  Miss  Jenkins. 
Suppose  you  let  me  place  you?" 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Blake,  but  I  do  not  want 
to  be  an  actress.  I  should  like  your  opinion, 
though,  on  what  I  told  Mr.  Lyle." 

Briefly  she  gave  him  a  synopsis  of  Lyle's 
play  and  her  suggestions  as  to  alterations. 

"You  have  the  right  idea,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  mean  to  plagiarize,  but  you  know 
how  one  thing  suggests  another,  and  his 
play  —  the  play  he  might  have  written  — 
gave  me  an  idea.  May  I  tell  that  to  you, 
too?" 

"Certainly,"  he  said  with  polite  resignation. 

He  listened  with  a  half  amused  attention 
as  she  gave  him  a  concise  outline  of  her  plot. 

"It  has  possibilities,"  he  conceded,  "but 
I  claim  the  paving  to  a  certain  place  is  made 
of  plots  instead  of  good  intentions.  Work 
away  on  it,  though.  It  will  keep  you  out 
of  mischief.  Where  did  you  get  all  your 
ideas  about  plays?  Were  your  parents  on 
the  stage?" 

"No,"  replied  Amarilly.  "When  I  was 
[1581 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

thirteen  —  at  the  age  I  told  you  I  had  stage 
aspirations  —  I  helped  scrub  at  Barlow's 
Theatre." 

"That  was  a  good  way  to  get  local  shading ; 
but  I  didn't  know  that  theatres  were  ever 
scrubbed.  Barlow's  must  have  featured  it." 

"I  wonder,"  she  asked,  "if  you  happen  to 
know  of  some  one  who  writes  plays  and  would 
like  a  typist?  I  promise  to  make  no  more 
gratuitous  criticisms.  The  thought  of  Dump- 
lings and  our  little  home  will  guard  my 
speech." 

"You  can't  support  yourself,  the  boy  and 
Pups  by  typing  plays.  You  had  better 
dump  Dumplings." 

"He  will  be  no  expense  to  me,  because 
the  man  who  pulled  him  from  the  wreck  is 
paying  for  his  maintenance." 

"I  saw  that  Masonic  emblem  had  got  in  its 
work." 

"There's  a  little  story  in  connection  with 
the  emblem." 

He  listened  with  great  relish  to  her  account 
of  the  way  Dumplings  had  come  into  posses- 
sion of  the  pin. 

"I  felt,"  she  said,  rising  to  go,  "that  Dump- 
lings would  give  me  open  sesame  here." 
[159] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"It  wasn't  the  boy  who  opened  my  door 
to  you.  It  was  something  in  you  —  the 
dramatic  instinct,  maybe.  The  same  in- 
tangible influence  that  the  little  pin  exerted 
on  the  Big  Man." 

"I  trust,"  said  Amarilly,  "that  I  have  more 
claim  on  that  nameless  something  than 
Dumplings  has  on  the  pin." 

"Well,  you  see,  it  made  no  difference  with 
Dumplings'  hero,  when  he  found  the  kid 
wasn't  eligible  to  the  brotherhood.  Who 
knows  but  what  one  of  Dumplings'  ancestors 
was  a  third  degreer;  and  I  still  believe  that 
the  blood  of  a  brilliant  actress  of  long  ago 
fame  flows  in  your  veins.  I  have  a  feeling 
that  some  day  you  will  return  to  your  birth- 
right. When  you  are  tired  of  typing  and 
dabbling  with  plays,  you'll  strike  your  gait. 
In  the  meantime,  to  keep  you  in  touch  with 
the  stage,  I  am  going  to  send  you  a  pass  to 
my  theatre  for  the  season." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Blake!  How  can  I  ever  thank 
you  for  all  you  have  done  for  me?" 

"By  promising  to  come  to  me  when  you  are 
ready  for  the  footlights?" 

"I  surely  shall,  —  if  ever  I  am  ready." 

"I'll  keep  you  in  mind,"  he  promised. 
[1601 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

He  looked  after  her  regretfully,  as  she  left 
the  office. 

"It  isn't  her  looks  or  her  figure  —  though 
both  are  good  —  that  might  put  her  on  top. 
It's  that  powerful  little  poise  she  has.  There 
is  no  charm  to  equal  it." 

"There's  one  iron  in  the  fire,"  reflected 
Amarilly  as  she  turned  into  a  side  street, 
"but  before  it  gets  hot,  I  may  be  out  of  funds, 
so  I  must  find  a  quicker  fire.  I  wish  I  could 
stir  up  a  nice  little  blaze  for  Mr.  Marsden's 
cold  irons.  I  don't  see  how,  even  with  Miss 
Roxy's  thrift  and  sifting  of  ashes,  they  can 
manage." 

She  paused  before  the  window  of  a  dairy 
lunch  to  look  at  the  white-capped,  white- 
aproned  girl  engaged  in  baking  pancakes. 

"I  might  do  that,"  she  thought.  "There 
doesn't  seem  to  be  much  else  I  can  qualify  for." 

When  she  boarded  the  Oakridge  car,  she 
found  part  of  a  daily  newspaper  in  the  one 
vacant  seat. 

"The  sheet  most  familiar  to  me!"  she 
thought,  with  a  wry  little  smile.  "How  I've 
pored  over  the  'Help  Wanted,  Male  and 
Female!'  This  is  only  the  'miscellaneous* 
page.  Oh!" 

[161] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

In  her  jubilance  she  nearly  cried  aloud. 
Hastily  she  rang  the  bell,  got  off  at  the  next 
crossing  and  turned  into  one  of  the  side  streets 
that  are  fast  coming  into  business  competition 
with  the  uptown  avenues.  She  scanned  the 
signs  until  she  came  to  Belgrave's  Bazaar. 
She  entered. 

It  was  the  time  of  day  when  trade  slackens, 
and  the  proprietor  was  easing  off  from  the 
day's  drudgery  by  engaging  his  head  clerk 
in  a  little  confidential  chat. 

"That  advertisement,"  he  was  saying, 
"simply  let  down  the  bars  to  all  the  freaks 
in  town." 

"I  hope  I  may  prove  the  exception,"  said 
Amarilly,  stepping  up  to  him. 

"Another!"  he  said  resignedly.  "Well, 
what  is  your  proposition?" 

Quickly  and  animatedly  Amarilly  revealed 
the  inspiration  she  had  conceived  while  read- 
ing the  liner. 

"You're  a  winner!"  he  exclaimed,  when 
she  had  finished  the  outline  of  her  plan. 
"Cash  or  check?" 

"Cash,  please,"  she  said,  her  heart  flutter- 
ing, as  he  handed  her  fifty  dollars,  the  amount 
offered  in  the  advertisement  for  the  "best  idea." 
[162] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"And  if  the  thing  pans  out,"  he  continued, 
"as  I  think  it  will,  I'll  pay  you  a  salary  and 
commission  on  all  sales.  When  can  you 
begin?" 

"A  week  from  to-day,"  she  promised. 

After  a  little  parley,  their  agreement  as 
to  salary  and  commission  was  put  in  "black 
and  white ",  and  Amarilly  again  started  for 
Oakridge. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  had  rubbed  Aladdin's  lamp 
so  hard  I  might  put  it  out!"  she  thought. 

"I  have  a  wonderful  secret  to  tell  you," 
she  said  excitedly  to  Sydney  Marsden. 

"It  won't  be  a  secret  if  you  tell  it,"  he 
remarked.  "A  secret  is  something  only  one 
person  knows." 

"But  you  can  invent  a  way  to  keep  it.  I 
want  to  go  into  partnership  with  you  on  one 
of  your  patents." 

His  interest  was  at  once  enlisted  by  the 
magical  word  "patent",  but  he  was  dis- 
appointed and  skeptical  when  he  learned 
which  patent  she  had  selected. 

"That  was  only  a  whim  —  a  mere  trifle," 
he  expostulated.  "There  are  others  — " 

"It's  trifles  like  this  that  take.  You  will 
see  that  it  will  make  us  a  nice  little  income. 
fl63l 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

There  are  just  two  stipulations  I  want  to 
make." 

"As  many  as  you  like." 

"One  is,  that  only  you  and  I  are  to  know 
what  my  occupation  is.  I  will  tell  my  family, 
friends  and  Miss  Roxy  merely  that  I  have  a 
'commercial  position.'  And  the  other  condi- 
tion is,  that  your  share  of  the  profits  won't  be 
entirely  used  for  patents,  but  that  three- 
fourths  of  it  will  be  deposited  in  the  bank 
toward  an  assured  future  for  you  and  Miss 
Roxy." 

Sydney  Marsden  was  willing  to  agree  to 
anything  that  would  rid  him  of  her  presence 
for  the  time  being,  and  permit  him  to  return 
to  the  evolution  of  his  latest  invention. 


[164] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER   XVI 

IT  was  the  day  before  the  one  day  that 
makes  all  others  of  the  year  seem  insig- 
nificant. 

Amarilly  and  Dumplings  were  on  the  train 
en  route  for  home.  The  latter  was  making 
the  acquaintance  of  a  friendly  brakeman,  and 
Amarilly  was  taking  inventory  of  the  past 
three  months,  which  had  been  a  most  happy 
and  prosperous  period.  Her  business  and 
the  care  of  the  little  home  had  so  occupied 
her  time  that  her  efforts  in  a  dramatic  direc- 
tion had  been  but  desultory.  She  sighed  as 
she  recalled  her  ambitions. 

"Money making,"  she  speculated,  "seems 
to  curb  all  ambition  to  achieve  in  any  but  a 
mercenary  way,  and  then  Dumplings  takes 
up  so  much  of  my  time.  How  did  Ma  ever 
manage  with  such  a  houseful !  But  Dump- 
lings, Pups  and  I  are  very  happy,  and  so  is 
Miss  Roxy.  Happiness  comes  first,  always." 

Her  eyes  strayed  to  the  little  fellow,  and 
[165] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

something  in  their  gaze  brought  him  quickly 
to  her. 

"Gee,  Amarilly,  it's  going  to  be  a  swell 
Christmas !  The  brakeman  told  me  a  lot 
more  about  Santa  Glaus.  He  says  he  can  go 
some  —  faster  than  a  telegram." 

"It  will  be  a  merry  Christmas,  Dumplings, 
and  we  shall  have  many  more  of  them." 

"You  are  sure  I  won't  ever  have  to  go 
away,  Amarilly?" 

She  had  had  this  query  propounded  to 
her  many  a  time.  "Poor  Dumplings!"  she 
thought.  "He  has  bivouacked  so  much,  he 
can't  believe  in  a  home  station." 

"Certainly,  I  am  sure,"  she  again  told  him. 
"Even  the  Big  Man  shall  not  take  you  from 
me  now." 

Dumplings  sighed. 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  him  come  and 
live  with  us,  Amarilly?" 

Amarilly  flushed.  Courville  had  asked  for 
frequent  reports  of  Dumplings'  welfare.  His 
replies  thereto  had  been  prompt  and  personal, 
with  a  new  little  note  in  them  of  late  that  had 
piqued  her  interest,  and  yet  had  been  some- 
what agitating. 

"He  couldn't  do  that,  Dumplings." 
[166] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  wish  he  was  going  to  be  with  us  for 
Christmas,  anyway,  and  Mr.  Derry,  too." 

"Mr.  Derry  had  so  many  demands  upon 
him,"  she  said  regretfully,  "that  he  couldn't 
come." 

It  had  been  the  one  little  cloud  in  her  sky 
of  blue  that  she  hadn't  ventured  to  share  the 
secret  of  her  undertaking  with  Derry.  Her 
explanation  of  "commercial  position"  had 
entirely  satisfied  the  family  and  had  greatly 
impressed  them.  John  Meredith  had  been 
somewhat  solicitous  when  he  beheld  the  evi- 
dences of  Amarilly's  affluence,  but  his  wife 
assured  him  that  Amarilly  had  told  her  that 
she  was  a  "demonstrator  of  a  new  device." 

"But  why  the  secrecy?"  he  asked  per- 
plexedly. 

"It's  in  some  way  connected  with  the 
Marsden  patents,"  replied  Colette,  "and  it  is 
probably  not  to  be  divulged  until  it  is  on  the 
market.  I  told  you  it  would  be  impossible 
for  Amarilly  to  walk  in  a  conventional  path 
of  commerce.  She'd  naturally  verge  off  into 
some  unbeaten  track." 

Corydon  Blake  had  telephoned  Amarilly  to 
call  at  his  office,  as  he  had  found  something 
for  her  in  a  "typewriting  way." 
[167] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"It  was  very  kind  in  you  to  remember," 
she  said  gratefully,  when  she  answered  the 
summons,  "but  at  present  I  am  engaged  in 
something  that  is  very  lucrative." 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  wonderingly. 

"  It's  an  invention  in  which  I  have  invested, 
and  it  is  paying  good  dividends." 

"It's  different  from  most  inventions  then," 
he  said  ruefully.  "I  never  yet  invested  in 
one  that  brought  me  returns." 

It  had  not  been  so  easy  to  deflect  Derry 
from  further  probing  as  to  the  nature  of  her 
enterprise. 

"I  think,  Amarilly,"  he  said  reproachfully, 
"that  you  should  let  me  in  on  this  mysterious 
business." 

"  He  would  so  disapprove,"  she  thought, 
"that  I  should  feel  it  my  duty  to  give  it  up, 
and  I  must  keep  on  for  the  Marsdens'  sake. 
There  is  nothing  like  telling  the  truth  to  mis- 
lead." 

So  with  a  little  tug  of  conscience  she  told 
him  she  was  employed  in  a  toy  shop. 

"Amarilly,"  he  replied  abruptly,  "I  know 

perfectly  well  that  there  is  no  toy  shop  in  the 

city  that  pays  its  clerks  the  salary  you  must 

be  drawing.     I  know  what  you  are  doing  for 

[168] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Snydikit  in  the  way  of  repairs  and  stock. 
And  you  certainly  have  all  the  outward  and 
visible  signs  of  a  fair-sized  pay  check." 

"I  am  extravagant  in  the  way  of  clothes," 
she  acknowledged,  "but  that's  your  fault. 
Ever  since  the  day  you  gave  me  a  dollar  to 
purchase  velvet  hair  ribbons,  I've  had  to 
dress  up  to  that  expenditure." 

"Amarilly,  you  can't  evade  me!  You  are 
not  a  clerk  in  a  toy  shop.  I  wish  I  could  be 
sure  that  you  were." 

"I  didn't  say  I  was  a  clerk  —  that  I  sold 
toys,"  she  replied.  "I  —  I  demonstrate  them. 
Please,  Mr.  Derry,  be  patient,  until  I  can  tell 
you  more.  It's  a  perfectly  respectable  place 
and  a  perfectly  respectable  business." 

"Heavens,  Amarilly!"  he  exclaimed,  his 
forebodings  quickened  by  the  word  "demon- 
strate", "you  don't  wash  dishes  hi  the 
store,  do  you,  to  show  off  that  crazy  dish- 
washer?" 

"I'd  break  too  many  dishes  if  I  did,"  she 
said  laughing.  "It  is  putting  the  Marsdens 
on  their  financial  feet,  and  when  that  is 
accomplished,  I  will  tell  you  all." 

After  that  conversation,  Derry  didn't  refer 
to  the  subject,  but  Amarilly  was  uncomfort- 
[169] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

ably  conscious  of  just  a  suspicion  of  constraint 
between  them. 

The  train  slowed  up.  With  a  start  Amarilly 
came  back  from  her  reflections. 

"This  is  where  we  get  off,  Dumplings." 

The  Boarder  was  waiting,  and  when  Pups 
had  been  released  from  the  baggage  car  where 
his  time  had  passed  in  unavailing  supplica- 
tions to  be  unleashed,  they  all  got  into  the 
big  sleigh.  Far  down  the  road  they  could  see 
the  warm  welcome  that  crackling  birch-log 
fires  and  the  lights  of  many  lamps  were 
sending  forth  from  all  the  windows  of  the 
farmhouse.  When  they  drove  up  to  the 
door,  the  Jenkins  family  came  out  to  greet 
them. 

"Hurry  in!"  entreated  Cory.  "Supper  is 
waiting." 

"'Twill  take  an  ox  team  to  hold  the  young 
ones  back  much  longer,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins. 

Dumplings  looked  wonderingly  at  the 
living-room  festooned  with  pine  and  red 
berries. 

"Those  berries  ain't  good  to  eat,"  Cory 
informed  him.  "They're  holly  berries." 

"Are  they  what  make  holidays?"  asked 
Dumplings. 

[170] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"How  beautifully  the  room  is  trimmed," 
exclaimed  Amarilly,  when  the  laughter  had 
subsided. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Derry,  coming  into 
view. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Derry!"  she  exclaimed  de- 
lightedly. "You  said  you  weren't  coming!" 

"I  said  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  said  I  had 
an  engagement  of  long  standing.  This  was 
the  engagement.  Ages  ago  Lily  Rose  asked 
me  to  come  and  help  trim  the  house  and  tree. 
You  don't  suppose  I'd  miss  my  first  real 
Christmas  tree?  It's  some  tree,  too." 

"Oh,  hurry  and  eat,"  urged  Cory.  "No 
one's  seen  the  tree  'cept  Milt  and  Lily  Rose 
and  Mr.  Derry." 

"It  will  be  Dumplings'  first  tree,  too," 
said  Amarilly. 

"I'll  never  fergit  our  first  tree,"  said  Mrs. 
Jenkins  reflectively.  "  We  only  had  one  ever- 
green when  we  come  out  here,  and  we  didn't 
want  to  cut  it  down.  'Twas  a  mild  winter, 
so  we  jest  had  our  celebratin'  outside.  We 
hung  that  tree  full  of  cranberry  and  pop- 
corn strings  and  snow  instead  of  cotton. 
Didn't  need  no  lights,  cause  the  moon  and 
stars  and  snow  lit  it.  We  all  put  on  our 
[1711 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

arctics   and   mittins   and   bundled    up.     We 
had  an  orful  good  time." 

"That  was  the  real  thing,"  declared  Deny. 
"But  there  isn't  to  be  any  Fletcherizing  at 
the  supper  table,  I  see." 

"We'll  need  a  ramrod  for  Iry,"  said  the 
Boarder,  watching  the  little  fellow  bolt  his  food. 

"I'll  take  a  look  in,"  said  Derry,  as  he  left 
the  table,  "and  see  if  Santa  Glaus  has  come." 

"Amarilly,"  exclaimed  Dumplings,  "the 
brakeman  told  me  Santa  Glaus  never  came 
until  midnight!" 

"He  meant  in  the  city,"  explained  the  ever- 
ready  Amarilly.  "He  comes  to  the  country 
first  so  he  can  get  to  the  city  by  midnight." 

"He's  coming,"  whispered  Derry  myste- 
riously. 

"All  aboard  for  the  parlor!"  shouted  the 
Boarder. 

There  was  a  grand  rush  for  the  folding  doors, 
which  slid  back  and  revealed  a  gigantic  tree, 
Christmas-clad  in  all  the  glory  of  gold  and 
silver,  red  and  white. 

The  whoops  of  the  children  were  stilled  by 
the  sound  of  the  jangling  of  bells,  and  Santa 
Glaus,  alias  Milton,  entered,  booted  and 
bearded. 

[172] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Ceely  clung  to  her  mother  in  an  ecstasy  of 
timid  delight,  while  Iry  went  up  to  him  fear- 
lessly. 

Amarilly  had  been  waiting  expectantly  to 
see  the  effect  upon  Dumplings,  but  instead 
of  being  overwhelmed  with  joy,  he  was 
puckering  his  features  in  perplexity. 

"Isn't  it  grand,  Dumplings,  dear?"  she 
asked. 

"I've  seen  a  tree  like  this  before,  Amarilly, 
but  I  can't  remember  whether  it  was  at  home, 
father's  home,  or  maybe  Hugh  — " 

He  shook  his  head  helplessly,  but  Santa 
Claus  was  speaking. 

"Here's  Amarilly's  present  first  of  all." 

Bud  stepped  in  front  of  the  tree,  lifted  his 
head  and  voice  and  poured  forth  the  plaintive 
beauty  of  Der  Tannenbaum.  His  old  richness 
and  purity  of  tone  had  soared  triumphantly 
above  the  rocks  of  voice-changing  period. 

"Oh,  Bud!"  cried  Amarilly,  when  the  last 
note  had  died  away.  "It's  the  loveliest 
present  I  could  have!  Are  you  sure  it's 
safe  to  sing  now?" 

"Mr.  Derry  took  me  to  Maurel  the  other 
day  and  he  said  I  could  begin  again,  though 
he  can't  tell  yet  whether  my  voice  is  going 
[1731 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

to  be  strong.  Mr.  Derry  planned  this  for  a 
surprise  for  you." 

"That  is  like  you,  Mr.  Derry,"  began 
Amarilly  gratefully,  but  Dumplings  grasped 
her  hand. 

"Amarilly,"  he  said,  a  little  break  in  his 
voice,  "I  know  now,  it  was  at  my  real 
home  —  my  own  home  —  and  we  had  a  tree 
like  this,  and  father  sang  that  song.  It  all 
came  back  when  I  heard  Bud." 

"This  is  not  the  time  for  tears,"  growled 
Santa  Glaus.  "I  come  to  make  folks  glad. 
Here's  a  present  for  Ceely." 

Ceely  speedily  lost  her  fear  when  he  held 
out  a  French-featured  doll.  There  were  so 
many  Jenkins  and  so  many  gifts  that  the 
distribution  took  some  time.  Pups  was 
bountifully  provided  for  with  a  box  of  alle- 
grettis  from  Amarilly,  a  collar  from  Derry, 
and  nuts,  candies  and  cake  from  the  children. 
As  he  was  bidden  to  pray  for  each  and  every 
presentation,  he  added  much  to  the  holiday 
hilarity. 

Derry's  gifts,  from  a  silk  dress  for  Mrs. 

Jenkins  to  a  magically  fitted  doll-house  for 

Ceely,  were  many  and  costly,  and  Amarilly 

began  to  feel  troubled  at   what    she   should 

[174] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

receive.  She  gave  a  cry  of  pleasure  at  the 
portrait  of  Dumplings  he  had  painted  for  her. 

"I  kept  awfully  still  while  he  painted, 
didn't  I,  Mr.  Derry?  He  gave  it  to  Santa 
Claus  to  bring  to  you." 

"And  isn't  Dumps  the  dandy  to  keep  a 
secret?"  added  Derry. 

"I  never  have  told  about  the  prayer, 
either,"  supplemented  Dumplings. 

When  the  presents  were  finally  all  distrib- 
uted and  Santa  Claus  had  gone  to  the  barn, 
Derry,  who  had  promised  to  look  in  late  at 
some  festivities  in  town,  took  his  departure, 
having  promptly  accepted  Mrs.  Jenkins' 
invitation  to  the  Christmas  dinner  on  the 
morrow. 

"Oh,  dear,  ith's  all  over,"  mourned  Iry, 
when  his  mother  was  scrubbing  his  sticky  face 
and  hands  in  the  kitchen. 

"Be  thankful,"  adjured  his  mother,  "that 
it's  over  without  your  being  burnt  up.  I've 
put  you  out  five  times  to-night,  and  I  believe 
you're  a-smokin'  yet.  Between  haulin'  you 
out  from  under  them  candles  and  pushin' 
that  Pups  loose  from  the  decoratings,  I'm 
all  wore  out.  Where's  that  fool  dog  now?" 

Answering  in  person,  Pups  galloped  gaily 
[1751 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

forth  from  the  parlor.  He  had  evidently  been 
indulging  in  an  uninterrupted,  solitary  bout 
with  the  tree,  for  he  was  festooned  with  strings 
of  pink  popcorn;  a  ring  of  cranberries 
coquettishly  adorned  his  left  ear ;  his  tail  was 
bound  round  with  silver  tinsel  and  he  had 
put  one  of  his  front  feet  through  a  tarlatan 
stocking.  From  his  mouth  dangled  the  re- 
mains of  a  Christmas  angel.  A  string  of 
chimes  had  caught  on  his  collar  and  jangled 
a  melody.  Surely  none  ever  had  a  merrier 
Christmas  than  the  one  Pups  was  now  cele- 
brating. 

Mrs.  Jenkins  opened  the  outside  door. 

"Git!"  she  commanded  in  military  tone. 

Pups  obeyed,  and  sounds  of  revelry  by 
night  were  wafted  from  without. 

"We  were  going  to  save  all  the  trimmings 
for  next  Christmas,"  regretted  Cory.  "But 
I  am  glad  Pups  is  having  such  a  good  time." 

When  Bud,  Amarilly  and  Dumplings  were 
alone  in  the  living  room,  the  latter  asked  Bud 
to  sing  his  Christmas  tree  song  once  more. 

Bud's  tones  came  soft,  throaty  and  sub- 
dued.    Dumplings'  musical  ear  was  keen  and 
by  the  end  of  the  first  verse  he  was  able  to 
join   in.     Then   there  was   added   from   the 
[176] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

next  room  a  rich  baritone,  to  which  Amarilly 
listened  in  wonder  and  admiration. 

Dumplings  trembled,  and  ceased  singing. 
In  the  doorway  stood  a  man  to  whom  he 
rushed  with  a  glad  little  cry  of  — 

"Father,  oh,  father!" 

Amarilly's  heart  beat  quickly  as  she  watched 
Courville  gathering  the  little  form  to  him. 

"You  are  my  father,  aren't  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes ;  I  only  just  found  it  out  and  hurried 
to  you,  my  son." 

"And  you  came  for  my  Christmas.  You 
didn't  die,  like  mother  said." 

"Mother  was  mistaken,"  said  Courville, 
wincing  slightly.  "Father  thought  you  were 
dead,  Louis." 

"I  was  most  dead  when  you  pulled  me  out 
of  the  fire,  father." 

Courville's  eyes,  which  were  devouring  the 
face  of  his  small  son,  finally  met  Amarilly's 
bewildered  gaze. 

"Wasn't  it  wonderful,"  she  said  faintly  — 
"that  you  should  have  been  the  one  to  save 
his  life!  How  did  you  find  out?" 

"We  just  succeeded  in  tracing  Mrs.  Ellis, 
and  the  boy's  possessions  included  a  letter 
to  his  mother,  her  picture,  and  some  trinkets. 
[177] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

If  I  only  had  looked  at  him  that  night  of 
the  wreck,  —  but  you  know  it  was  dark,  and 
you  had  him  covered  up  when  I  was  in  the  car, 
and  there  was  no  light  in  the  room  when  I  saw 
him  upstairs,  here." 

"You  wouldn't  have  recognized  him.  A 
child  changes  so  between  the  ages  of  four 
and  seven,  and  he  now  doesn't  look  at  all  as 
he  did  at  the  time  of  the  wreck." 

"I  should  have  known  him,"  said  Courville 
emphatically.  "But,  how  did  you  know  me, 
son?" 

"I  knew  when  I  heard  you  sing  the  Christ- 
mas tree  song.  You  won't  die  again,  father  ?  " 

"No,  Louis,  you  are  going  home  with  me 
to  the  Corners." 

"That  grand  place?     And  Amarilly,  too?" 

"I  hope,"  he  said  earnestly,  without  looking 
toward  Amarilly,  "that  we  can  persuade  her 
to  do  so." 

To  her  relief,  the  family,  whom  Bud  had 
corralled  from  all  parts  of  the  house,  now  came 
in  to  hear  the  wonderful  news. 

"Are  we  going  home  to-night,  father?" 
asked  Dumplings,  when  it  had  all  been  told 
again. 

"Your  pa's  goin'  to  stay  here  to-night  with 
[178] 


How  did  you  know  me,  son?  "    Page  178. 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

you,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins  hospitably.  "Yes," 
she  insisted,  answering  his  faint  demur,  "this 
place's  like  the  street  cars,  always  room  for 
one  more.  And  Dumplings  orter  be  in  bed 
this  minute." 

"No!"  protested  the  boy. 

"  Not  if  father  undresses  you  and  stays  with 
you  till  you  are  asleep  ?"  asked  Courville. 

Dumplings  consented  eagerly,  and  Amarilly 
felt  with  a  pang  that  he  had  been  readily 
weaned  from  her  care. 

"Blood's  thicker  than  water,  Amarilly," 
said  Mrs.  Jenkins,  reading  her  daughter's 
thoughts,  as  Courville  and  Dumplings, 
followed  by  Pups,  went  upstairs  and  the  rest 
of  the  household  dispersed. 

"I  suppose  so,"  sighed  Amarilly,  "but  I 
don't  see  how  I  am  going  to  get  along  without 
Dumplings.  I  almost  wish  I  had  never  had 
him  at  all." 

"You  orter  be  ashamed  of  yerself,  Amarilly. 
You  should  be  glad  you  had  the  chance  to  do 
something  fer  Mr.  Courville  when  he's  been 
so  good  to  all  us." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Amarilly  wearily.  "I'm 
tired  after  all  this  excitement.  I  believe 
I'll  go  to  bed." 

[179] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Lily  Rose,  who  had  shown  the  guests  up 
to  the  "speer  room",  came  in. 

"He  wants  you  to  be  sure  and  wait  up  fer 
him,  Amarilly,"  she  said  significantly,  "and 
I  guess  we'd  better  clear  the  track,"  she 
added  to  Mrs.  Jenkins,  as  she  went  into  the 
kitchen. 

Mrs.  Jenkins  gazed  anxiously  at  Amarilly 
for  a  moment. 

"You  wa'nt  never  yet  a  dodger,  Amarilly. 
You  might  jest  as  well  face  it,  fust  as  last. 
I  see  'twas  bound  to  come." 

"I  can't  decide  now,"  said  Amarilly.  "I 
must  have  more  time." 

"It  don't  never  take  no  time  to  tell  whether 
you  want  a  thing  or  not." 

"It  isn't  a  question  of  wanting,"  said 
Amarilly.  "It's  a  question  of  what  I  ought 
to  do.  He's  had  such  a  sad  life.  His  wife 
was  a  hot-headed  Italian  girl.  She  was  on 
the  stage  before  he  married  her.  They  didn't 
get  on  together  very  well  and  she  ran  away 
and  took  Dumplings  just  to  hurt  his  father. 
She  didn't  care  for  the  child." 

"But  what's  that  got  to  do  with  you?" 

"He's  had  such  a  lonely  life,  and  —  I  do 
want  Dumplings."* 

[180] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"But  don't  quite  want  his  dad;  not  real 
bad,  anyway.  Courville  has  got  his  kid  back 
and  that  orter  make  up  to  him  for  losing  a 
good  fer  nothin'  woman.  Nobody  can't  hev 
everything.  You  know  well  enough  you  don't 
love  him  and  that  orter  settle  it." 

"Ought  it  really?"  asked  Amarilly  eagerly. 

"Sure,  it  orter." 

"I  might  learn  to  love  him,  maybe." 

"Love  don't  come  from  no  learnin'.  You 
jest  do  or  you  don't.  You'd  allers  keer  most 
fer  Dumplings,  and  then  his  pa'd  be  jealous 
and  so  unhappy  that  mos'  likely  he'd  take 
Dumplings  and  run  away.  Runnin'  away 
seems  to  run  in  his  family.  Sayin'  'no' 
may  be  hard,  but  it's  the  best  thing  to  do." 

"You  make  things  so  simple,"  said  Amarilly, 
brightening.  "I  don't  know  anyone  so  wise." 

"  We  allers  think  folks  who  tell  us  to  do  what 
we  want  to  do  is  wise.  Now,  Amarilly,  you 
say,  'no',  and  you  stick  to  your  no." 

With  this  admonition,  Mrs.  Jenkins  left 
the  room,  and  Amarilly  remained  waiting  in 
apprehension. 

"I've  lost  Dumplings,"  she  sighed.     "I'll 
just  hide  this  portrait  of  him,  or  his  father 
will  be  wanting  that,  too." 
[181] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Soon  Courville  appeared,  but  the  ordeal 
was  not  as  trying  as  she  had  expected  it 
would  be.  His  voice  and  manner  were  full 
of  appeal,  but  he  was  not  insistent  after  she 
had  refused  him. 

"I  knew  you  didn't  love  me,"  he  said 
gravely,  "but  I  was  selfish  enough  to  hope 
you  would  say  yes  on  the  boy's  account." 

It  occurred  to  Arnarilly,  as  she  went  up  to 
bed,  that  the  Christmas  to  which  she  had  so 
expectantly  looked  forward  was  beginning 
most  disastrously. 


182] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WHEN  Amarilly   came  to  breakfast  the 
next   morning,   Dumplings,   sitting  at 
the  table  next  to  his  father,  looked  up  at  her 
with  shining  eyes. 

"I  am  not  afraid  that  father  will  ever 
leave  me,  Amarilly,  'cause  I  belong  to  him." 

"I  told  you  it  was  going  to  be  'some 
Christmas',"  she  replied  with  a  brave  attempt 
at  cheerfulness. 

"We  had  a  tree  and  everything,  father," 
explained  Dumplings. 

"So  I  judged,"  said  Courville,  "when  I 
met  Pups  in  holiday  attire  coming  down  the 
lane  last  night." 

"It'll  be  a  hull  year  afore  another,"  said 
Iry  disconsolately.  "Don't  theem  ath  if  I 
could  wait." 

"It  won't  be  for  me,"  said  Amarilly. 
"Mr.  Marsden  and  Aunt  Roxy  are  going  to 
have  their  Christmas  to-night,  so  I  could  be 
with  them." 

[183] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"And  I  won't  be  there,"  mourned 
Dumplings. 

"But  after  breakfast,"  said  his  father 
jealously,  "you  will  have  another  Christmas, 
too.  I  met  Santa  Glaus,  and  he  gave  me 
presents  for  five  children." 

"Cory,  Iry,  Ceely  and  me.  Who's  the 
fifth?"  asked  Dumplings. 

"Amarilly,"  he  replied  with  a  short  laugh. 

Lily  Rose  brightened  perceptibly  at  Cour- 
ville's  look  and  tone. 

"Say,  Flammy,"  she  asked  briskly,  "you're 
goin'  to  eat  Christmas  dinner  with  Almy, 
ain't  you  ?  " 

"Yes;  I  am  going  to  drive  over  about 
eleven." 

"Take  me  with  you.  I  want  to  see  Almy's 
presents.  I'll  get  the  mornin'  work  did  by 
then,  and  Amarilly's  goin'  to  do  my  share 
with  the  dinner." 

"Sure  I'll  take  you.  But  how'll  you  get 
back?" 

"I'll  ketch  a  ride.  Wouldn't  hurt  none  if 
I  had  to  walk,  it's  so  mild." 

Amarilly  tried  to  feign  an  interest  in  the 
new  lot  of  toys  Courville  distributed  and  in 
the  gold  mesh  bag  he  had  bought  for  Dump- 
[184] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

lings  to  give  to  her.  Cory  was  in  a  little 
eighth  heaven  of  bliss  when  he  presented  her 
with  a  wrist  watch. 

"It's  the  first  grown-up  present  I  ever 
had,"  she  cried  joyfully,  "and  the  very 
nicest." 

"I  sent  you  a  present,  father,  out  west," 
said  Dumplings,  "  I  earned  the  money  to  buy 
it  with." 

"It  will  come  back,"  said  Courville. 
"Thank  you,  Louis." 

It  gave  Amarilly  a  little  thrust  every  time 
Courville  addressed  his  son  as  "Louis." 

"Even  his  name  will  be  a  memory  to  me," 
she  thought. 

In  the  meantime  Lily  Rose  had  gone  with 
Flamingus,  but  she  displayed  far  more 
interest  in  looking  out  the  window  at  the 
road  than  she  did  in  Almy's  gifts. 

"There  comes  Mr.  Deny,"  she  cried. 
"How  lucky.  Go,  flag  him,  Flammy,  while 
I  git  on  my  things." 

"I  am  glad  you  saw  me,"  said  Derry, 
when  Lily  Rose  was  in  the  car  at  his  side. 

"I  was  watchin'  fer  you,"  she  confessed. 
"  I  wanted  to  meet  you  and  break  the  news ; 
so  drive  slow." 

[185] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"What  news?"  he  asked  quickly.  "Not 
bad  news,  I  hope,  on  Christmas  day!" 

"Amarilly  takes  it  like  it  was,  but  I'm 
tickled  to  tears,  though  I  dassent  say  so  to 
tio  one  but  you.  Arter  you  went  last  night, 
the  Man  at  the  Corners  come." 

The  car  swayed  slightly. 

"Why  did  he  come  back  so  soon?"  he 
demanded. 

"For  them  —  Amarilly  and  Dumplings." 

The  car  stopped. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Lily  Rose?" 

Lily  Rose  was  a  lover  of  romance,  and  she 
was  now  getting  more  thrills  than  she  did 
from  the  novels  she  devoured  in  her  scant 
leisure  hours.  She  would  have  reveled  in 
prolonging  the  excitement  and  deferring  her 
climax,  but  she  saw  that  Deny  would  not 
permit  any  "continued  in  our  next"  style  of 
narrative. 

"Well,  you  see,  it  turns  out  that  the  Man 
at  the  Corners  is  Dumplings'  pa." 

"The  deuce  he  is!"  exclaimed  Derry. 
"And  a  married  man  !" 

"A  widower.  None  of  the  folks  around 
here  knew  nothing  about  him,  but  he  told 
Amarilly  all  about  hisself.  His  wife  was  an 
[1861 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Eyetalian  and  she  run  away  and  took  the  kid, 
and  told  him  his  pa  was  dead  and  told  the 
Man  at  the  Corners  the  kid  was  dead  — 
treated  'em  both  the  same,  you  see.  The 
Man  at  the  Corners  put  detectives  to  work 
and  they  jest  found  out  who  was  who.  It 
was  all  like  a  play  last  night !" 

"What  did  you  mean  by  saying  he  had 
come  for  Amarillly  ?" 

"He  went  upstairs  to  stay  with  the  kid  till 
he  was  asleep,  and  he  asked  me  fer  to  tell 
Amarilly  to  set  up  till  he  come  down.  I 
knowed  he  was  gone  on  her  the  first  time  he 
ever  seen  her." 

"Did  she  wait  up  for  him?" 

"  Yes ;  and  he  asked  her  to  marry  him  and 
be  Dumplings'  ma.  He  told  Mrs.  Jenkins 
all  about  it.  It  would  be  a  fine  home  for  her, 
and  she  loves  Dumplings  and  Pups,  but  — " 

Seeing  the  look  of  apprehension  in  Derry's 
eyes,  she  mercifully  hastened  her  climax. 

"She  refused  him." 

Derry  uttered  a  gasp  of  relief. 

"She  come  pretty  nigh  doing  it  on  Dump- 
lings' account.  She's  awful  blue  to-day  at 
the  thought  of  losing  him  and  Pups.  I  come 
out  a-purpose  to  meet  you  and  tell  you,  so 
[1871 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

if  she  didn't  act  nateral,  you'd  know  why 
it  was.  She's  purty  close-mouthed,  you 
know." 

"You  did  right,  Lily  Rose,"  he  said  approv- 
ingly. "It  is  good  news.  Good  for  Dump- 
lings and  his  father,  and  I  am  mighty  glad 
Amarilly  is  relieved  of  the  care  of  the  boy. 
It  was  too  much  for  her.  Thank  you  for 
telling  me.  Will  you  promise  always  to  tell 
me  everything  I  should  know  about  Ama- 
rilly?" 

She  promised  eagerly,  adding:  "I  can't 
help  but  feel  sorry  fer  him,  but  then  he  can 
wait  fer  Cory." 

When  they  reached  the  farm,  Derry  found 
Amarilly  in  the  kitchen,  her  sleeves  caught 
up  to  her  elbows,  a  studio  apron  covering  her 
from  throat  to  ankles,  and  her  cheeks  flushed 
not  entirely  by  reason  of  proximity  to  the 
bake-oven.  She  had  just  picked  up  the  roll*- 
ing  pin  as  Derry  entered. 

"Please,  mum,  don't  brandish  that  weapon 
at  me  so  formidably !  Somehow,  Amarilly, 
I  feel  that  we  are  meeting  on  the  old-time 
ground  to-day.  I've  been  somewhat  in  awe 
of  you  in  your  role  of  college  graduate  and 
little  mother  to  Dumps.  I  think  it's  the 
[1881 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

apron  that  takes  down  the  barrier,  and  makes 
you  seem  like  a  little  girl  again." 

She  smiled  faintly  and  began  emptying  the 
flour  sifter. 

"  Say,  Amarilly,  I'm  awfully  hungry ! 
Have  you  only  just  rolled  out  the  oven 
things  ?  If  I  have  to  wait  for  them  to  bake, 
I'll  ask  for  a  handout  right  now." 

"Everything  is  just  about  ready  to  come 
out  of  the  oven.  I  am  only  clearing  up." 

"'Reddin'  up',  you  mean,"  he  said  mis- 
chievously. 

Amarilly's  nerves  were  tight-strung  to-day. 
At  any  other  time  she  would  have  enjoyed  the 
allusion  to  old  days.  Her  flush  deepened  and 
a  hurt,  sensitive  look  came  into  her  eyes. 

Two  quick  strides  brought  him  to  her. 

"Amarilly,"  he  said  tenderly,  "I  know 
you've  just  lost  your  youngest  child,  but  he's 
got  a  father  to  look  after  him,  while  I  —  well, 
I  haven't  anyone  in  the  wide  world  to  look 
after  me,  unless  you  will.  Won't  you  adopt 
me  in  Dumplings'  place  —  and  be  nice  to  me 
on  this  day  of  days  —  nice  like  you  used  to 
be?  Remember  we  were  born  on  the  same 
day  of  the  year  and  if  I  were  ten  years  younger 
we'd  be  twins." 

[189] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

There  was  a  shadow  of  relenting  beneath 
her  downcast  lashes. 

"You  might  wish  me  a  Merry  Christmas 
anyway,"  he  continued.  "  I  am  going  to  have 
one  in  spite  of  Dumps,  and  Dumps'  dad,  and 
your  aloofness." 

The  lashes  lifted. 

"The  merriest  of  all  Christmases  to  you, 
Mr.  Derry,"  she  said  softly. 

He  put  his  arm  quickly  about  her,  and  the 
distance  narrowed  until  there  was  no  barrier 
of  space  between  her  cheek  and  his  lips. 

The  little  light  kiss  seemed  to  sweeten  the 
atmosphere,  and  a  subtle  tenderness  was 
breathed  in  the  shy  silence  that  followed. 

"Amarilly,  I  smell  things  burnin'!"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Jenkins,  rushing  into  the  kitchen 
and  opening  the  oven  door.  "I  come  jest  in 
time." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Derry!"  cried  Dumplings,  who, 
with  Cory,  had  followed  Mrs.  Jenkins,  "you're 
all  covered  with  flour." 

Cory  gave  an  audible  and  vulgar  snicker. 

"You're  mistaken,  Dumps,"  laughed  Derry, 
swinging  the  boy  to  his  shoulder.  "I'm  all 
covered  with  happiness." 

"Go  into  the  settin'-room,"  commanded 
[190] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Mrs.  Jenkins,  "and  all  set  to  table.  I'm 
a-goin'  to  dish  up,  and  I  don't  want  even 
you  in  the  way,  Amarilly." 

"I  want  to  congratulate  you,"  said  Deny, 
transferring  Dumplings  to  his  father's 
shoulder,  as  they  met  in  the  little  hallway. 
"He's  a  boy  to  be  proud  of." 

His  appreciation  of  Dumplings  was  so 
heartily  spoken  that  Courville's  usual  air  of 
frigidity  toward  the  artist  thawed  perceptibly. 

"I  wish  to  thank  you  for  all  the  good 
times  he  says  you  have  given  him,"  he 
replied. 

"Then  let  me  give  him  some  more.  I 
never  had  the  real  fine  points  of  baseball 
revealed  until  we  went  to  a  game  together. 
Oh,  say,  Amarilly!"  he  called  to  her,  as  he 
saw  her  about  to  slip  off  her  long  apron, 
"leave  it  on,  please,  for  'old  sake's  sake'!" 

In  the  sitting-room  the  table  was  set  for 
fourteen  and  festively  adorned  with  holly 
and  green  ribbons.  Twin  turkeys  were  placed 
in  front  of  the  Boarder  and  Milton,  who 
vigorously  began  a  carving  contest. 

"We  uster  git  double  deals  in  a  different 
way,"  chuckled  the  Boarder.  "Remember 
the  double  decker,  Amarilly?  This  plate's 
[191] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

fer  you,  Mr.  Deny,  and  Milt's  first  goes  to 
Mr.  Courville." 

"Now  fall  right  to  and  eat,"  said  Mrs. 
Jenkins. 

"It  looks  too  good  to  eat  in  a  hurry," 
commented  Derry.  "I  want  to  sit  and  gloat 
over  mine.  From  now  on  I  shall  be  strong 
for  Christmas." 

"Amarilly,"  announced  Iry,  "ith  goin'  to 
have  the  betht  Chrithmath  of  any  of  uth. 
Thee  ith  goin'  to  have  another  to-night  at  the 
Marthdenth." 

"She  hasn't  anything  on  me,"  declared 
Derry.  "I  am  going  to  be  there,  too." 

"I  didn't  know — "  began  Amarilly  in 
surprise. 

"I  have  to  go,  to  take  Miss  Roxy  a  five- 
pound  box  of  chocolates  and  a  string  of  blue 
beads." 

"How  dear  in  you  to  remember  that  she 
adores  candy !  She  was  wishing  that  she 
might  have  one  frivolous  present.  She  always 
receives  those  bazaar-like  things,  so  easy  to 
give  and  too  useful  to  use." 

"I  have  some  magic  tools  for  Marsden  to 
work  out  his  wonderful  ideas  with,  and  well, 
naturally,  they  will  ask  me  to  stay." 
[192] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Father's  going  to  send  them  something 
from  me,"  said  Dumplings,  surreptitiously 
smuggling  a  piece  of  turkey  to  Pups,  con- 
cealed beneath  the  table. 

"Does  your  housekeeper  like  dogs?"  asked 
the  alert  Mrs.  Jenkins  of  Courville,  as  she 
heard  the  quick  snap  of  Pups'  jaws. 

"Not  any  more  than  she  does  boys," 
replied  Courville  cheerfully;  "but  she'll  have 
to  endure  both  with  a  good  grace,  or  seek 
another  place." 

Soon  after  dinner,  Derry  proposed  that  he 
and  Amarilly  start  for  Oakridge.  He  divined 
that  it  would  be  easier  for  her  to  leave  Dump- 
lings than  to  see  him  depart  with  his  father. 

"Goodbye,  Amarilly,"  said  the  little  fellow 
cheerily.  "Father  says  I  can  come  over  here 
every  time  you  are  home." 

"Goodbye,  Dumplings." 

She  kissed  him,  quickly  turning  to  Pups' 
caressing  overtures. 

"I  suppose,"  she  said  wistfully,  as  she  and 
Derry  were  motoring  to  town,  "that 
Dumplings  has  always  been  such  a  little 
transient  that  new  environments  come  as  a 
matter  of  course  to  him.  I  never  saw  any 
one  with  such  an  aptitude  for  transplanting." 
[1931 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"He'll  take  root  now,  Amarilly,  because 
he's  returning  to  his  native  soil.  It  was  too 
much  responsibility  for  you,  anyhow." 

"He  and  Pups  took  every  moment  of  my 
spare  time,"  she  said  with  a  sigh.  "I  must 
find  something  else  to  be  absorbed  in,  now." 

"We  will  talk  of  that  later." 


[194] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

MISS  Roxy  derived  a  childish  glow  of 
the  old-time  Christmas  spirit  from 
her  presents  of  beads  and  chocolates.  Her 
brother  could  hardly  wait  for  the  close  of 
festivities  to  try  his  new  tools,  but  Amarilly 
was  plainly  perturbed  when  Derry  handed 
her  a  small  package. 

"But  you  gave  me  such  a  beautiful  present 
last  night,"  she  protested. 

"That  was  from  Dumplings.  This  is  your 
real  Christmas  present  from  me." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Derry,  I  can't!"  she  exclaimed, 
when  she  had  opened  the  little  case  and  beheld 
a  string  of  beautiful  pearls. 

"Yes,  you  can.  They  look  better  with 
red  hair  than  any  other  jewels.  If  you  knew 
the  time  I  spent  trying  to  find  just  the  ones 
I  wanted!" 

"I   suppose,"    meditated   Amarilly,    "that 

to  one  born  to  wealth,  the  monetary  value 

of  an  article  is  trivial.     He  probably  thought 

no  more  of  the  price  than  he  would  if  he  had 

[  195  ] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

been  buying  flowers  or  candy,  and  —  I  suppose 
it's  very  plebeian  not  to  be  able  to  rise  above 
the  dollars  and  cents  of  life." 

She  forced  herself  to  say  simply  and  natu- 
rally : 

"They  are  beautiful,  Mr.  Derry,  and  I 
thank  you  very  much." 

"That's  like  the  Amarilly  I  used  to  know," 
he  said,  fastening  the  necklace  for  her. 

Then  Marsden  placed  his  gift,  in  an  enor- 
mous box,  on  the  table  near  her. 

"Even  after  the  royal  gift  you've  just 
received,"  he  said,  "I  am  not  ashamed  to 
present  mine,  because  I  know  it's  something 
you  want  very  much." 

Wonderingly  she  lifted  the  cover.  One 
glance,  and  she  gave  a  cry  of  pleasure. 

"It's  too  good  to  be  true!  "  she  cried,  clasp- 
ing her  arms  about  his  shoulder.  "It's 
Pandora's  own  box  with  incentive  added  to 
hope." 

"Open  it  up  again,  and  let  me  see,"  be- 
sought Derry  curiously,  and  with  just  a  shade 
of  resentment  in  his  voice. 

"Not  now,"  she  denied.  "It's  a  secret. 
Some  day  you  shall  see  what  it  has  wrought, 
I  hope." 

[196] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"When?" 

"Maybe  by  next  September." 

"For  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  shall 
personify  patience.  But,  put  on  your  wraps. 
We  must  be  off." 

"Off  where?"  she  demanded. 

"There  is  still  another  Christmas  awaiting 
you.  I  promised  Colette  I  would  bring  you 
there  for  the  night." 

"I  wondered  why  I  hadn't  heard  from  her. 
What  a  progressive  Christmas  this  is!" 

"So  far,"  he  said,  as  they  were  on  their 
way  to  the  Merediths,  "this  has  been  the 
nicest  Christmas  I  ever  had,  and  I  hope  the 
last  of  it,  the  part  yet  to  come,  will  be  the 
best  of  all." 

When  they  came  up  the  rectory  steps,  he 
took  a  latchkey  from  his  pocket. 

"Are  you  one  of  the  family  now?"  asked 
Amarilly,  as  he  inserted  the  key  in  the  lock. 

"I  am  —  for  to-night.  You  see  the  Mer- 
ediths have  gone  to  some  church  affair  — 
Colette  couldn't  dodge  it  —  and  the  servants 
have  a  night  off ;  so  she  gave  me  a  key  and 
told  me  to  entertain  you  until  she  returned." 

"This  is  great !"  he  exclaimed,  as  they  came 
into  the  library  with  its  soft  lights  and  glowing 
[1971 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

fire.  "  Sit  down  here  by  me,  Amarilly,  on  this 
divan  built  for  two.  I'll  pull  it  nearer  the 
fireplace.  There !  Now  let  me  ask  you  if 
you  remember  me  telling  you  on  that  autumn 
night  when  we  came  to  your  house-warming, 
that  I  had  a  beautiful  picture  sketched  in  my 
mind  that  I  was  waiting  to  develop  ?  " 

"Yes ;  I've  often  thought  of  it,  Mr.  Derry, 
and  wondered  what  the  subject  was,  and  if 
you  had  started  it  yet." 

"You  are  the  subject,  Amarilly.  I  tried  to 
tell  you  in  Paris  and  on  the  way  to  Dover, 
but  those  confounded  girls  were  always  all 
over  us  like  puppies.  That  first  Sunday  at 
the  farm  I  tried  again,  but  Courville  en 
passant  and  Bobby's  call  for  supper  forbade. 
Afterwards  there  was  always  Dumplings  and 
your  mysterious  work.  To  make  a  long  story 
short,  Amarilly,  I  love  you  and  want  you  to 
be  my  wife." 

Amarilly's  eyes  grew  grave  and  unfathom- 
able. 

"No,  Mr.  Derry.  When  you  saw  me  at 
Cherbourg,  you  thought  you  loved  me,  just 
because  you  were  surprised  to  see  me  grown 
up  and  — " 

"I  always  loved  you,  Amarilly,  I  believe, 
[198] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

and  I  didn't  wait  until  you  came  over  there 
to  find  it  out.  Your  letters  for  the  last  two 
years  you  were  in  college  opened  my  eyes  to 
the  way  I  cared  for  you." 

"Wait  until  you  meet  the  right  girl,  Mr. 
Derry.  Then  you'll  know  the  difference 
between  love  and  fancy." 

"What  does  a  girl  just  out  of  college  know 
about  love !  I'm  sure  I've  met  many  types 
of  girls  and  — " 

"Not  the  right  type  —  not  yet,  Mr.  Derry." 

"What  kind  of  a  girl  have  you  in  mind  to 
wish  on  me,  Amarilly?" 

"I  don't  know  —  only,  she  mustn't  be  like 
me." 

"Well,  now,  you  have  youth,  health,  good 
looks,  brains,  and  what  will  discount  all 
these,  a  big,  true,  generous,  loyal  heart.  It 
seems  to  me  that  is  a  combination  a  man 
doesn't  meet  with  very  often." 

"You  used  to  say  you  liked  my  frankness. 
Mr.  Derry,  I  —  don't  want  to  be  your  wife." 

"I  know  you  are  not  in  love  with  me, 
Amarilly,  but  give  me  the  chance  to  make 
you  care — " 

"No;  please,  Mr.  Derry." 

"Amarilly,  I  know  a  beauty  spot  on  the 
[199] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

cliffs  above  the  river  drive.  You  can  go  to 
work  in  earnest,  if  you  will,  at  making  it  the 
combination  of  home  and  studio  I'd  like  to 
build  there." 

"If  we  could  do  just  what  we  wanted  to,'* 
thought  Amarilly  wistfully,  "how  happy  we 
would  be,  maybe.  Life  seems  to  be  just 
giving  up  one  thing  after  another.  I  have  had 
to  give  up  Dumplings  and  now,  Mr.  Derry." 

"Please,  Amarilly!" 

"No,  Mr.  Derry,"  she  replied  a  little  sadly, 
"I  am  not  the  one  to  make  a  home  for  you." 

"You  will  find  I  am  a  patient  waiter, 
Amarilly." 

When  the  Merediths  came  in,  and  Colette's 
ready  eyes  saw  the  wistfulness  in  Amarilly 's 
expression,  and  the  disappointed  but  deter- 
mined lines  about  Derry's  mouth,  she  drew 
correct  conclusions.  At  the  little  supper 
awaiting  them  in  the  dining  room,  Amarilly 
told  of  Dumplings'  change  of  fortune. 

"How  lucky  you  didn't  give  him  to  us!" 
exclaimed  Colette,  "but  I  am  glad  he  is  off 
your  hands." 

"Haven't  you  found  a  child  yet?"  asked 
Amarilly. 

"  No,  and  I  am  beginning  to  be  discouraged. 
[200] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

I'll  not  ask  you  to  make  selections  again, 
Amarilly.  When  I  think  of  that  appalling 
line  of  freckled  boys  with  slits  for  eyes  and 
mouths  that  you  picked,  I  shudder.  They 
looked  like  the  pictures  of  children  I  used  to 
draw  when  I  was  a  child." 

"I  didn't  select  them  from  a  beauty  stand- 
point," defended  Amarilly. 

"That  was  perfectly  evident;  but  tell  me 
what  you  drew  for  Christmas.  I  saw  those 
pearls  you  are  wearing  before  you  did." 

Amarilly  flushed  at  the  expressive  look  in 
Colette's  dancing  eyes  and  began  quickly  to 
enumerate  her  presents.  Then  Derry  re- 
luctantly announced  that  he  must  take  his 
departure. 

"See  him  out,  Amarilly,"  directed  Colette, 
"  and  don't  forget  to  take  the  key  away  from 
him." 

"You  hoped,"  said  Amarilly  slowly,  when 
they  were  in  the  hall,  "that  this  would  be  the 
nicest  part  of  Christmas.  I  am  —  sorry — " 

"In  spite  of  your  resolute  little  'no',  it 
has  been  the  nicest.  Won't  you  make  it  still 
nicer  and  bestow  a  little  hearts-ease?  You 
remember,  Amarilly,  how  I  came  to  get  cov- 
ered with  flour  to-day?" 
[201] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

He  watched  the  pink  in  her  cheeks  deepen, 
before  he  resumed  :  "That  was  only  a  fleeting 
mirage  of  one.  Please,  a  real  one,  now, 
because  it's  Christmas  and  because  I  haven't 
anyone  else  in  the  world  to  give  me  one,  and 
because  you  denied  me  what  I  want  most  of 
anything  in  the  world." 

Slowly  and  in  spite  of  the  knowledge  that 
she  was  not  acting  wisely,  she  lifted  her  face 
to  his.  All  that  she  wouldn't  let  him  tell  her 
was  in  the  meeting  of  their  lips. 

"Did  you  get  the  key?"  asked  Colette 
innocently,  when  Amarilly  returned  to  the 
library. 

"What?  the  key  — oh,  no!"  she  replied 
confusedly. 

"It's  late,"  said  Colette,  foregoing  her 
tantalizing  laugh  as  she  gazed  into  Amarilly 's 
eyes.  "We  had  better  go  upstairs  now." 

"I  shouldn't  have  let  him,"  acknowledged 
Amarilly,  when  she  was  alone  in  her  room, 
remembering  with  a  little  shiver  the  luminous 
look  in  his  eyes  when  she  had  run  away  from 
him;  "but  it  was  my  goodbye  to  him,  only 
he  didn't  know  it.  It  was  my  goodbye  to  any 
thought  of  ever  consenting  to  what  he  asked." 

[  202  ] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER   XIX 

ON  a  week-end  visit  to  the  farm   in  the 
latter   part   of    March,   Amarilly    was 
greeted  by  encouraging  news  from  the  Boarder. 

"The  railroad  people  are  goin'  to  settle 
soon.  They've  been  waitin'  all  this  time  for 
Old  Maid  Hankins  to  come  off  her  high  priced 
perch.  She's  jest  gittin'  ready  to  light." 

"I  had  about  given  up  hope  for  help  from 
that  quarter,"  commented  Amarilly,  "but 
you  know  it  was  understood  that  I  am  not 
to  share  in  the  sale  of  the  right  of  way." 

"We  ain't  goin'  to  hev  no  sech  under- 
standin'.  We  kin  be  as  sot  as  you,  Amarilly. 
Not  one  on  us,  not  even  Milt,  will  touch  a 
penny  of  your  part.  Lily  Rose  and  me  will 
bank  for  Ceely.  Flam  is  goin'  to  build  his 
house.  Milt's  got  an  option  on  some  town 
lots.  You'll  spile  all  our  enjoyment  in  the 
money  if  you  don't  take  yourn." 

"All  right!  I'll  be  good,"  promised  Ama- 
rilly blithely. 

[  203  ] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Money's  coming  in  too  fast  to  be  healthy," 
she  reflected  soberly,  as  she  was  on  her  way 
back  to  town  Monday  morning.  "I  wonder 
if  the  Marsdens  and  I  are  not  financially 
able  to  declare  ourselves?  My  withdrawal 
wouldn't  lessen  their  profits,  now  the  thing  is 
so  well  established.  I  really  enjoy  doing  it, 
and  yet  I  can  see  that  the  secrecy  is  widen- 
ing little  wedges  between  me  and  —  those  I 
care  for.  If  there  were  only  one  person  I 
could  confide  in  and  get  a  reassuring  indorse- 
ment from!  But  they  would  all  be  prej- 
udiced—  if  they  knew.  In  the  old  days  I 
would  have  had  faith  in  my  own  opinion  and 
kept  right  on ;  but  a  little  knowledge  is  — 
upsetting  and  makes  cowards  of  us  all.  I 
wonder  what  Mr.  Corydon  Blake  would  think  ! 
Somehow,  I  feel  he  would  be  the  most  lenient. 
I  think  Mr.  St.  John  would  be  troubled.  Mrs. 
St.  John's  love  of  being  amused  might  over- 
come her  scruples.  Brenda  would  say  I  was 
crazy,  and  Mr.  Derry  —  oh,  there's  the  rub  ! 
Once,  he  would  have  been  delighted,  but  now 
I  fancy  he  would  be  opposed.  Dumplings 
would  adore  it.  Dumplings  appreciates  the 
joy  in  earning  money,  but  his  father  —  he 
hasn't  forgiven  me  for  refusing,  nor  himself 
[204] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

for  having  invited  refusal.  And  yet  Mr. 
Derry  didn't  cherish  a  grudge !  Brenda  says 
it  shows  a  man  is  selfish  and  egotistical  if  he 
resents  a  refusal.  Brenda  must  have  been 
born  wordly-wise.  How  I  should  like  to 
spread  my  cards  on  the  table  and  see  if  I  am 
right  in  what  the  various  verdicts  will  be. 
I  know !  I  can  find  out  without  revealing 
my  identity." 

The  result  of  her  several  speculations  was 
the  writing  of  the  four  following  letters : 

"Dear  Mr.  Meredith: 

"As  one  of  your  flock  from  afar,  I  should  like 
your  advice  as  to  the  business  in  which  I  am  en- 
gaged. I  am  (or  was,  until  I  engaged  in  this 
pursuit)  poor,  but  by  reason  of  having  received 
educational  advantages  I  am,  perhaps,  capable 
of  a  different  walk  in  life,  one  more  elevating  but 
not  so  remunerative. 

"If  you  will  visit  Belgrave's  Bazaar  on  — th 
St.  you  will  learn  my  occupation.  You  will 
not  be  permitted  to  address  me,  but  a  note  left 
with  the  proprietor  will  be  delivered  to  me.  I 
should  value  your  opinion." 

"My  dear  Mr.  Blake  : 

"If  you  can  spare  the  time,  will  you  give  the 
*  attraction  at  Belgrave's  Bazaar'  a  casual  survey 

[205] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

and  give  me  your  opinion  as  to  my  means  of  earn- 
ing a  living.  All  the  world's  a  stage  to  you,  so 
you  will  not  judge  from  a  social  standpoint.  I'd 
like  to  know  whether  I  qualify  as  vaudeville, 
movie  or  legitimate  artist.  A  note  to  Mr.  Bel- 
grave  will  be  delivered  to  me." 

"Dear  Mr.  Courville: 

"When  you  were  in  Belgrave's  Bazaar  the  other 
day  with  your  little  son,  I  heard  you  give  your 
name  and  address  to  a  clerk  for  the  mailing  of  your 
purchases.  I  am  taking  the  liberty  of  requesting 
your  views  as  to  my  method  of  earning  a  livelihood. 

"If  you  have  a  daughter,  and  her  circumstances 
should  some  day  become  like  mine,  would  you 
want  her  to  pursue  the  vocation  in  which  I  am 
there  engaged  ? 

"I  am  not  communicating  as  a  means  of  gain- 
ing your  acquaintance.  I  truly  desire  your 
impersonal  opinion.  You  can  hand  or  mail  your 
reply  to  Mr.  Belgrave." 

"Dear  Mr.  Derry,"  she  wrote,  and  then 
with  a  little  exclamation  of  dismay  and  amuse- 
ment, she  tossed  the  sheet  aside  and  began 
anew. 

"Dear  Mr.  Phillips: 

"I  know  you  by  reputation  as  a  great  artist, 
and  I  should  like  an  artist's  opinion  as  to  my  occu- 
[  206  ] ' 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

pation  —  whether  it  is  suitable  for  a  young  girl. 
Although  it  is  as  public  a  pursuit,  perhaps,  as 
that  of  an  actress,  still  if  you  will  visit  Belgrave's 
Bazaar,  you  will  see  that  I,  unlike  an  actress,  am 
as  inaccessible  to  the  public  as  though  I  were  in  a 
convent.  Should  you  take  the  trouble  to  reply, 
please  do  so  through  Mr.  Belgrave." 

She  drew  a  little  scared  sigh  when  she  had 
posted  these  letters. 

"It's  a  regulation  school-girl  trick,  just 
like  some  of  the  crazy  things  we  did  at  school, 
but  maybe  it  will  show  where  I  am  at,  if  only 
they  'bite'  and  answer.  I  think  they  will. 
People  like  to  answer  letters  of  a  kind  they 
are  not  in  the  habit  of  receiving.  Mr.  St. 
John  will  think  it  his  duty  to  do  so.  Mr. 
Blake  will  be  on  the  lookout  for  a  new  'type.' 
Mr.  Courville  has  so  much  leisure  time  he 
will  be  glad  of  something  to  do,  and  Mr. 
Derry  —  well,  he  is  kindly  disposed  toward 
those  in  the  humbler  walks  of  life." 

Throughout  the  next  day  Amarilly  kept 
her  eyes  demurely  dropped,  for  she  was 
secretly  conscious  of  "some  one  near." 

On  the  second  day  among  the  letters  handed 
to  her  by  Mr.  Belgrave  were  three  in  recog- 
nized hand-writing. 

[207] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

She  waited  with  little  thrills  of  expectancy 
for  the  seclusion  of  her  apartment  at  Oak- 
ridge  before  reading  the  responses  to  her  com- 
munications. 

She  first  opened  the  one  from  John  Meredith. 

"My  dear  young  lady : 

"All  labor  is  honorable  and  respectable.  Your 
occupation  affords  innocent  amusement  and 
diversion  to  little  children  and  some  of  their 
elders,  too;  but,  could  it  not  be  followed  by  one 
who  has  not  received  the  advantages  of  education 
and  training,  and  are  you  not  therefore  keeping 
some  less  favored  person  out  of  employment  ? 

"If  you  have  the  qualities  to  rise  above  your 
position,  do  you  not  owe  it  to  yourself  and  to 
your  teachers  to  aim  at  a  higher  mark  ?  to  develop 
and  utilize  your  capabilities  along  bigger  lines? 
Remember  that  only  lack  of  courage  and  loss  of 
faith  in  yourself  can  keep  you  from  your  chosen 
goal." 

"Oh,  dear !"  sighed  Amarilly.  "I  got  just 
what  I  expected  —  a  little  sermon  that  aimed 
straight  at  the  bull's  eye  —  and  hit  it." 

She  picked  up  an  inclosure  that  had  fallen 
from  the  envelope. 

"A  bit  of  lovely  leaven,"  she  thought  as 
she  read : 

[208] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  am  your  pastor's  wife  and  amanuensis,  and 
so  slip  in  this  note.  Of  course  he  is  right  —  he  al- 
ways is  —  but  it  must  be  a  lot  of  fun  and  —  who 
is  your  dressmaker  ?  " 

Courville's  letter  was  brief,  laconic  and 
characteristic : 

"Every  one  to  his  own  taste,  and  if  you  like 
your  vocation,  or  avocation,  it  is  no  one's  business. 
As  to  your  personal  question,  I  most  certainly 
would  not  desire  my  daughter  to  do  what  you  are 
doing ;  but,  as  I  said  before,  it's  a  matter  of  taste." 

"No,"  thought  Amarilly  a  little  bitterly. 
"You,  and  so  many  like  you,  would  prefer  to 
have  your  daughter  bent-backed  and  near- 
blind  from  poring  over  ledger  or  typewriter  and 
rusting  out  in  hall  bedrooms,  trying  to  eke 
out  a  meagre-mealed  life  and  save  one  dollar 
sixty -nine  a  month  towards  avoiding  the  poor- 
house  in  her  oldest  old  age.  Now  for  Corydon 
Blake's.  I'll  get  something  sane  and  practical 
from  his." 

She  gave  a  little  startled  gasp  as  she  read : 

"My  dear  Miss  Amarilly  Jenkins  : 

"You  see  I  am  on!    I'm  too  old  a  stager  to  be 
deceived  by  even  so  clever  and  beautiful  a  make- 
[209] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

up  as  yours.  You  couldn't  conceal  that  little 
turn  of  your  head  and  shoulders  that  you  have. 
But  you've  proved  me  right  in  thinking  that  the 
stage  is  your  native  heath.  You  are  perfect  in 
your  ingenue  part  and  could  shine  in  other  roles. 
I  should  think  the  stage  would  be  more  enticing 
than  this." 

"It  isn't,"  she  reflected,  as  she  folded  the 
letter,  "because  I  have  been  behind  the  scenes 
and  I  know  what  a  struggle  it  is.  I  am  choos- 
ing the  easiest  way.  But  I  never  dreamed  of 
his  or  any  one's  identifying  me.  Mr.  Derry 
must  have  found  me  out,  too,  and  is  so  dis- 
approving he  won't  answer !" 


210] 


It  was  not  smoke  that  soon  issued  from  the  pipe,  but  beautiful 
sparkling  bubbles.    Page  211. 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  next  morning,  as  was  her  daily 
custom,  Amarilly  entered  Belgrave's 
Bazaar  by  neither  the  front  nor  back  entrance, 
but  by  means  of  a  concealed  doorway  between 
the  Bazaar  and  an  adjoining  store,  thus  elud- 
ing a  possible  reporter. 

In  a  little  dressing-room,  she  changed  her 
tailored  suit  for  a  marvellous  gown,  sheer  in 
texture  and  of  the  hues  that  glisten  in  a  rain- 
bow when  viewed  through  a  summer  shower. 
A  wig  of  bright  yellow  hair,  from  which  stray 
tendrils  shaded  her  face  partially  from  view, 
was  next  adjusted.  To-day,  made  appre- 
hensive by  Corydon  Blake's  discovery,  she 
added  a  disguising  touch  here  and  there  from 
a  make-up  box. 

Then  she  walked  into  the  big  show  window 
of  the  bazaar,  seated  herself  and  raised  to 
her  lips  a  common  clay  pipe.  It  was  not 
smoke,  however,  that  soon  issued  from  the 
pipe,  but  beautiful,  sparkling  bubbles  that 
danced  upon  the  floor,  as  she  gracefully 
[211] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

flicked  them  into  space.  Finally  there  was 
such  an  accumulation  that  a  man  came  and 
removed  them.  Even  then  they  still  remained 
intact. 

In  the  window,  which  was  artistically 
draped  in  colors  to  match  those  of  her  dress 
and  the  bubbles,  were  various  placards : 
"Buy  the  bubbles  that  never  burst."  " Come 
in  and  get  dreams  for  your  pipes."  "We 
give  rebate  on  all  bubbles  returned." 

Children  pushed  their  way  inside  the  bazaar 
to  the  counter  where  a  thriving  trade  was 
being  conducted  in  the  pipe  and  bubble  busi- 
ness. The  space  near  the  display  window 
was  roped  off  and  screens  were  so  arranged 
that  no  one  could  obtain  a  view  of  the  bubble 
blower. 

Amarilly's  heart  skipped  a  beat  when  about 
eleven  o'clock  she  heard  Derry  Phillips'  voice 
on  the  other  side  of  the  screen : 

"Mr.  Belgrave,"  he  said,  "I  came  in  to  ask 
a  favor." 

"Ask  anything,"  replied  Belgrave  jocosely, 
"except  the  name  of  the  young  lady  in  the 
window." 

"I  am  an  artist,"  replied  Derry,  "and  I 
wish  to  know  if  I  may  rent  that  beautiful 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

gown  the  young  lady  is  wearing.  If  I  could 
have  it  on  Sundays,  say,  when  she  is  not 
wearing  it,  I  should  like  to  paint  it.  Will 
you  ask  her?  In  the  meantime  I  will  buy 
one  of  those  wonderful  pipes.  It  was  the 
dream  of  my  young  life  to  blow  bubbles  that 
would  not  burst." 

"Mr.  Belgrave,"  said  Amarilly  in  a  muffled 
voice,  yielding  to  an  imprudent  but  uncon- 
trollable impulse,  "come  here,  please." 

The  proprietor  promptly  responded. 

"I'd  like  to  interview  this  man  about  rent- 
ing the  dress.  And  I  like  his  wanting  to 
blow  bubbles.  Please  bring  him  here,  but, 
of  course  don't  tell  him  who  I  am." 

Belgrave  joined  Derry  at  the  pipe  counter 
and,  after  learning  his  name,  brought  him  into 
the  window. 

"Mr.  Phillips,  the  artist,"  he  announced. 

She  acknowledged  the  semi-introduction  by 
a  slight  inclination  of  the  head,  but  did  not 
look  up  or  desist  from  bubble  blowing. 

"Little  Miss  Bubbles,"  began  Derry. 

"I  like  that  name!"  she  said  in  a  high- 
pitched  voice.  "I  shall  keep  it." 

"Then,  please  remember  that  I  am  your 
godfather.  I  should  like  very  much  to  paint 
[213] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

that  wonderful  gown,  and  your  golden  hair  — 
and  the  bubbles." 

"And  me,  too?" 

"I  cannot  tell  until  I  see  your  face.  Won't 
you  look  up  for  a  moment  ?" 

"I  can't  stop  now,"  she  said,  resuming 
her  pursuit. 

"You  know,"  he  said,  after  a  moment's 
silence,  a  tender  note  in  his  voice,  "you  might 
wear  a  golden  wig  and  keep  your  face  from 
me  and  totally  disguise  your  voice,  but  you 
couldn't  change  your  hands,  Amarilly.  I 
should  have  known  them  anywhere,  and  who 
but  Sydney  Marsden  could  have  devised  such 
bubbles!" 

She  looked  up  in  dismay. 

"Mr.  Derry !  I  never  dreamed  you  would 
recognize  me.  When  I  heard  your  voice,  I 
couldn't  resist  the  impulse  to  talk  to  you. 
Did  you  suspect  from  my  note?" 

"No;  but  I  determined  that  whoever  the 
girl  might  be  who  wrote  to  me,  she  should 
receive  her  answer  in  person.  But  have  you 
been  to  luncheon  yet?" 

"No;  it's  early,  you  know." 

"Let's  have  one  together  now.     I  want  to 
talk  to  you  in  a  less  public  place." 
[214] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I'll  join  you,  Mr.  Deny,  a  block  below, 
in  a  few  moments,  as  soon  as  I  can  change 
my  costume." 

"I've  certainly  put  my  foot  in  it  now," 
said  Amarilly  with  a  sigh  of  half  regret  and 
half  relief,  as  a  little  later  she  hurried  to  meet 
Deny. 

He  took  her  to  a  cheerful,  domestic,  little 
cafe  he  had  discovered,  and  as  it  was  earlier 
than  the  popular  luncheon  hour,  they  had 
one  of  the  small  dining-rooms  to  themselves. 

"Now,  Amarilly,"  he  said  decisively,  "I 
want  to  hear  all  about  it." 

Amarilly  glanced  out  of  the  window  and 
then  back  to  him  in  a  charming,  little  child- 
like way. 

"Do  you  remember,"  she  asked,  with  a 
bright-faced  smile,  "our  other  two  luncheons 
—  the  first  one  on  your  birthday  and  that 
other  one  when  you  changed  my  whole  world 
for  me?" 

"You  can't  dodge  the  issue  that  way, 
Amarilly,  or  lighten  it  with  levity.  I  want 
to  know  from  the  beginning." 

"It  was  Dumplings  who  began  it,"  she 
said.  "I  was  showing  him  how  to  blow 
bubbles,  and  he  complained  about  the  sub- 
[2151 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

stance  of  the  suds.  'Make  them  thick,'  he 
said,  'with  starch  or  something  so  they  won't 
burst.'  I  told  him  bubbles  were  intended  to 
burst,  and  he  said  Mr.  Marsden  could  invent 
some  that  wouldn't  burst.  And  sure  enough 
after  a  lot  of  experimenting  he  produced  a 
solution  that  evolved  unburstable  bubbles, 
and  such  economical  bubbles,  too !  You  can 
melt  up  the  liquid  and  blow  them  over  again. 

"While  I  was  racking  my  brains  for  em- 
ployment, I  saw  an  advertisement  offering 
fifty  dollars  for  the  best  and  most  original 
idea  for  a  window  display.  I  had  just  seen 
a  girl  baking  pancakes  and  I  can't  tell  you 
why  she  suggested  bubbles.  And  then  I 
thought  of  an  idea  for  the  prize  and  went 
still  further,  seeing  a  way  to  help  the  Marsdens 
out  of  their  improvident  rut.  Mr.  Marsden 
tinted  white  material  to  match  the  hues  of 
soap  bubbles,  and  I  had  the  gown  made.  I 
knew  you  would  adore  it." 

"It  is  worthy  of  Worth,  or  of  Cinderella's 
godmother,  but  —  I  don't  'adore'  your  wear- 
ing it  in  a  shop  window.  You  have  blown 
your  last  bubble  in  that  window." 

"I  knew  you  wouldn't  approve.  That 
was  why  I  didn't  tell  you.  But  it  was  more 
[216] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

fun  and  more  lucrative  than  anything  in  the 
help  columns.  Whenever  I  thought  of  what 
you  and  Mr.  St.  John  and  others  would  think, 
I  would  just  pretend  I  was  a  little  girl  blowing 
bubbles  for  play.  It  seemed  like  a  sort  of 
kindergarten  with  all  the  children  in  front  of 
me.  You  know  children  are  czars  in  a  house- 
hold and  toys  are  the  most  saleable  commodity 
there  is.  They  are  clamoring  from  all  over  the 
country  for  them  —  " 

"I  surmise,"  he  interrupted  abruptly,  "from 
the  proprietor's  manner,  that  he  is  in  the  habit 
of  being  importuned  to  — " 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  explained  hurriedly.  "But 
he  always  sends  the  silly  things  about  their 
business,  and  I  remember  Miss  Roxy,  and 
don't  let  it  annoy  me." 

"It  is  like  you,  Amarilly,  to  want  to  help 
them.  I  can  forgive  you  for  that,  but  — " 

"You  will  be  sensible  about  it,  then,  Mr. 
Derry,  and  let  me  stay  a  little  longer  until 
they  are  out  of  the  woods  ?" 

She  looked  up  at  him  artlessly  and  was 
silent  from  surprise.  He  was  gazing  at  her 
with  startling  intensity. 

"I  do  object,"  he  said  doggedly.  "It 
was  a  crazy  thing  that  no  one  but  you  would 
[2171 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

have  thought  of.  It's  only  a  matter  of  time 
when  some  newspaper  reporter  will  see  a 
story  and  have  your  picture  in  the  papers. 
Has  anyone  besides  me  recognized  you?" 

"Corydon  Blake,"  she  admitted. 

"What  was  he  prying  about  for?" 

"Like  you,  he  is  always  in  search  of  types. 
You  know,"  she  continued  wistfully,  laying  her 
hand  lightly^ on  his,  "I  never  could  seem  to  do 
things  as  other  people  do.  I  don't  know  why." 

In  spite  of  himself  a  smile  started  at  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  and  crept  up  to  his  eyes, 
softening  his  expression  and  then  there  fol- 
lowed a  crescendo  of  chuckles. 

"That  has  been  your  charm,  Amarilly, 
your  always  doing  the  unexpected.  There 
will  come  a  time  —  when  you  promise  me 
never  to  step  in  the  window  again  —  when 
I  can  laugh  at  your  business  venture.  I  will 
pay  you  any  price  for  that  dream  of  a  dress." 

"I  will  give  it  to  you,"  she  said. 

"And  if  you  insist  on  this  self-support,  I 
will  find  you  something  —  different." 

"It  won't  be  necessary,"  she  said,  "for 
me  to  do  anything  for  support." 

"Why?"      he  asked.     "Have  you  really 
made  as  much  profit  as  that?" 
[218] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

She  told  him  of  the  prospect  of  immediate 
sale  to  the  railroad  company. 

"That  settles  the  matter,"  he  said.  "Don't 
go  back  to  the  window  even  for  this  afternoon." 

"I  can't,"  she  said  demurely.  "It's  Satur- 
day —  a  half  holiday,  you  know.  Of  course, 
Mr.  Derry,  if  you  dislike  my  blowing  bubbles 
so  much,  I  won't  go  back.  Mr.  Belgrave  has 
a  daughter  who  has  window  display  aspira- 
tions." 

"Are  you  going  out  to  the  farm  to-night?" 

"Yes;  always  on  Saturdays." 

"I'll  motor  you  out,  but  I  shall  have  to 
come  right  back,  as  I  have  an  engagement  in 
town." 

When  they  left  the  cafe,  she  had  a  satis- 
factory settlement  with  Mr.  Belgrave,  and 
then  went  to  Oakridge. 

"There  is  still  the  commission  from  the 
sales  for  the  Marsdens,"  she  thought  thank- 
fully, as  she  walked  up  the  path  to  the  little 
cottage.  "That  will  keep  them  from  want." 

Miss  Roxy  met  her  at  the  door. 

"Amarilly!"  she  cried  ruefully.  "I  have 
some  terrible  news  to  tell  you.  I  have  burned 
up  the  bubble  recipe  !" 

[219] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXI 

"TVUT   surely,"  said   Amarilly,   when    she 
JD   had   heard   Miss   Roxy's    account    of 
the  catastrophe,  "  Mr.  Marsden  can  mix  it 
without  the  directions." 

"No ;  he  hasn't  made  any  for  several  days, 
and  you  know  what  a  poor  memory  he  has. 
He  has  been  experimenting  all  day  and  he 
can't  get  the  right  blend.  He  says  he  won't 
bother  with  it  any  more,  because  he  is  so 
daffy  over  his  new  invention  about  moving 
pictures.  We've  got  a  tidy  little  sum  saved 
and  are  now  out  of  debt." 

"It  was  too  much  like  a  fairy  story  to  last," 
said  Amarilly.  "Do  you  know,  Miss  Roxy, 
I  have  given  up  my  position  to-day.  I  am 
going  to  keep  out  of  business  for  a  while  any- 
way." 

It  was  near  the  close  of  the  day  when  Derry 
came  to  take  her  home. 

"Were  you  really  so  attached  to  the  bubble 
window?"  he  asked  abruptly,  after  they  had 
ridden  some  distance  in  silence. 
[2201 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Oh,  Mr.  Deny!  The  bubbles  did  burst, 
after  all.  Miss  Roxy  lost  the  formula  for 
the  solution  to  go  in  the  pipe.  And  Mr. 
Marsden  is  so  dippy  over  a  new  invention 
that  he  makes  no  secret  of  his  satisfaction  at 
the  loss." 

"Neither  shall  I,"  declared  Derry. 

"Well,"  she  said  with  a  sigh,  "I  must  look 
for  other  bubbles." 

"Amarilly!"  he  said  abruptly,  "you  re- 
member what  I  asked  you  on  Christmas  eve  ? 
I'm  asking  it  again  !" 

The  breeze  was  freighted  with  the  intan- 
gible odor  —  the  smell  of  earth  —  that  comes 
in  earliest  spring.  The  ruddy  after-glow  of  a 
brilliant  sunset  spread  over  the  western  sky 
and  sent  a  faint  reflection  of  its  glory  back  to 
the  east.  The  tall,  murky  towers  of  the  city 
they  were  leaving  were  wrapped  in  the  charm 
with  which  twilight  drapes  the  most  common- 
place surroundings.  Something  in  the  general 
enchantment  made  his  proposal  seem  less 
impossible  this  time. 

A  boy  drawing  a  cart  called  out  grouchily, 
to  clamoring  companions : 

"Can't  play  to-night!  Got  to  take  the 
washin's  home." 

[2211 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

The  inevitable  descent  from  the  sublime 
followed.  Once  more  the  alley  days  were 
brought  vividly  back  to  Amarilly.  Her  mo- 
mentary thrill  vanished. 

"Cinderella  in  her  ashes  again!"  she 
thought  wistfully,  as  she  said  soberly : 

"My  answer  is  the  same  as  it  was  then, 
Mr.  Derry." 

There  was  a  prolonged  silence.  The  car 
slipped  on  more  speedily.  Presently  she 
stole  a  glance  at  him  and  saw  the  hurt 
look  in  his  eyes.  Instinctively  the  knowledge 
came  to  her  that  there  was  an  emotion  as 
yet  unknown  to  her  and  that  as  long  as  it 
was  unknown,  her  life  would  be  colorless. 

"Whatever  it  is,"  she  thought,  "I  can't 
force  it,  and  without  it  I  couldn't  make  Mr. 
Derry  happy,  so  I  must  be  steadfast." 

At  the  farm  he  bade  her  goodbye  abruptly, 
and  drove  away. 

"He  won't  ask  me  again,"  she  thought  as 
she  went  inside  the  house. 

She  felt  as  if  a  cold  little  breeze  had  come 
up  and  chased  away  the  sunshine. 

"I  am  glad,"  she  said  to  the  family 
who  were  gathered  about  the  long  table, 
"that  the  railroad  promises  quick  returns, 
[222] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

because  the  bottom  has  dropped  out  of  my 
business." 

"Amarilly,"  demanded  Flamingus,  "what 
kind  of  a  business  was  it,  anyway?  We 
never  just  knew." 

"You  never  asked  before.  But  now  it's 
ended,  I'll  tell  you.  I  blew  bubbles  in  a 
window ! " 

"Well,"  commented  the  Boarder,  when 
she  had  given  them  full  particulars,  "your 
bubbles  lasted  longer  than  most  folks',  but 
there's  another  hitch  in  the  railroad,  and 
we'll  hev  to  wait  a  spell." 

Amarilly  looked  dubious. 

"You  kin  git  some  thin'  else  to  do  in  a 
winder,"  consoled  Mrs.  Jenkins.  "There's 
a  hull  lot  of  winders  in  town." 

"  My  next  window,"  decided  Amarilly,  "  will 
be  a  play.  If  I  could  only  get  as  absorbed  in 
one  and  forget  everything  else,  as  Mr.  Marsden 
does  when  he  invents,  I  might  succeed." 

When  she  returned  to  her  little  apartment 
on  Monday  morning,  she  had  resolved  to  re- 
duce her  expenses,  if  she  could  do  so  without 
loss  to  the  Marsdens. 

A  pair  of  unmistakable  newly-weds  were 
just  leaving  Miss  Roxy's  entrance. 
[223] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"If  that  wing  is  ever  vacant,"  the  young 
girl  was  saying,  "please  let  us  know." 

"It  will  be  vacant  to-morrow,"  said 
Amarilly.  "Yes,"  she  said  in  answer  to 
Miss  Roxy's  remonstrance,  "I  must  be  in 
the  city,  where  I  can  find  something  to  do." 

The  newly-weds  were  delighted  at  this 
information,  and  promptly  paid  the  advance 
rent  that  Amarilly  suggested. 

The  next  morning  she  went  to  the  city  and 
found  that  her  former  fourth  floor  corner  was 
unoccupied,  so  she  took  immediate  possession. 

"It's  the  ideal  place  to  write,"  she  thought. 
"In  my  room  at  the  farm,  Lily  Rose  would 
come  in  at  the  most  psychological  moment  to 
ask :  '  What  are  you  writing  now,  Amarilly  ? ' 
Ma  would  kill  my  inspirations  by  kindness, 
running  up  to  see  if  I  didn't  want  'a  bite', 
or  to  urge  me  to  take  a  rest.  At  the  cottage, 
Miss  Roxy  would  bring  in  her  sewing  to  'sit 
with  me  while  I  wrote,  so  I  wouldn't  feel  lone- 
some.' Here  I  am  monarch  of  the  little  I 
survey.  No  one  can  come  to  see  me  because 
there  isn't  room  for  two.  I  shall  be  like  the 
Miller  of  Dee.  I  am  as  isolated  as  Robinson 
Crusoe ;  and  thank  goodness,  there  is  no 
Man  Friday  about.  I've  often  wondered  if 
[224] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

there  weren't  times  when  R.  C.  wished  he 
had  never  seen  that  track  in  the  sand !" 

Sydney  Marsden's  Christmas  box  had,  of 
course,  contained  a  miniature  stage  and 
settings,  a  duplicate  of  the  one  he  had  made 
for  J.  Perigreen  Lyle. 

In  her  snatched  hours  of  leisure  it  had  done 
duty  as  a  fascinating  plaything,  and  she  had 
conceived  a  friendly  feeling  for  the  little 
marionettes  which  at  her  bidding  assumed 
all  the  attitudes  of  rapture  and  tragedy. 
She  handled  the  little  figures  with  much  the 
same  feeling  with  which  a  gambler  picks  up 
his  cards,  knowing  that  two  hands  are  never 
alike,  and  eager  to  see  what  fate  has  dealt. 

While  touching  a  button  that  sent  a  burglar 
through  a  window,  or  a  girl  to  her  lover's 
embrace,  or  a  villain  to  his  doom,  she  felt  all 
their  rhapsodies,  their  despair  and  their  fears. 
But  when  she  came  to  write  out  the  lines  for 
these  startling  and  unpremeditated  acts,  she 
knew  them  to  be  mawkish  and  inane. 

"I've  used  my  stage  as  Iry  does  his  Noah's 
Ark,"  she  thought.  "Simply  'lined  the  ani- 
mals up  two  by  two.'  I'll  try  wTriting  the 
play  first  and  then  working  it  out." 

She  put  her  theatre  out  of  reach  and  slept 
[225] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

with  the  twitching,  useless  sleep  of  mental 
exhaustion.  When  she  awoke,  she  couldn't 
recall  what  she  had  written,  it  was  so  blurred 
in  her  memory  with  troublesome  dreams. 
She  read  the  manuscript  through  slowly,  tore 
the  sheets  in  two  and  cast  them  in  the  waste 
basket. 

"It  was  as  flat  as  J.  Perigreen's,"  was  her 
verdict.  "Corydon  Blake  was  right.  Too 
many  people  try  to  write  plays.  Maybe  I 
had  better  go  into  the  dairy  business  with 
Gus." 

That  night  she  went  out  to  the  farm  with 
a  feeling  of  despondency  and  discouragement. 
The  lights,  the  warmth,  the  homely  supper 
and  the  heartening  sound  of  everyone  talking 
at  once,  revived  her  flagging  spirits  for  a  time, 
but  when  they  were  all  in  the  living-room, 
the  pendulum  again  swung  and  she  was  once 
more  in  the  depths. 

Courville's  entrance  with  Dumplings  and 
Pups  failed  to  bring  a  change  of  mood.  Pups 
looked  at  her  earnestly,  crossed  the  room 
slowly,  and  laid  his  head  in  her  lap.  The 
silent  sympathy  brought  a  tear  which  did 
not  escape  the  observant  eyes  of  Lily  Rose. 
Quickly  she  came  to  the  rescue. 
[226] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  mos'  fergot,  Amarilly,  to  thank  you  for 
the  nice  birthday  present  you  sent  me,  and 
what  do  you  suppose  he  give  me?" 

"I  can't  imagine,"  replied  Amarilly. 

"In  the  mornin'  he  took  me  out  to  the 
barn,  and  there  in  a  stall,  chewin'  her  cud, 
was  a  young  white  heifer,  Cowslip's  calf, 
Surplus,  what  he'd  bought  back  from  Jed ! 
Jest  think  of  what  she  done  for  us  !  Brought 
us  the  telerphone  and  the  sale  of  the  land, 
and  now  we  hev  her  back !" 

"  'Tain't  to  the  heifer  we  owe  all  our  horse- 
shoes," said  Gus  jealously,  "but  to  her 
mother,  Cowslip." 

From  Cowslip  the  conversation  naturally 
turned  to  the  "surplus." 

"Cory  gave  me  a  brief  account  of  that 
garment,"  said  Courville,  "the  first  day  we 
met.  I  have  always  wanted  a  fuller  narra- 
tive of  its  wanderings." 

"  You  tell  it,  Amarilly,"  entreated  Lily  Rose. 

Amarily  shook  off  her  passivity  and  pro- 
ceeded to  give  a  most  vivacious  account  of 
the  surplice  which  had  played  so  large  a  part 
in  the  weal  and  woe  of  the  family  fortunes. 
The  recital  brought  such  lodgment  in  her 
memory  of  other  and  older  days  that  when 
[2271 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

she  went  to  bed  that  night  all  desire  to  sleep 
had  fled.  The  harking  back  had  brought  a 
new  angle  of  vision,  and,  alone  in  the  dark 
and  stillness,  the  scenes  seemed  to  flash 
brilliantly  and  realistically  as  if  on  a  screen. 

Suddenly  it  came.  The  play  that  she  had 
been  groping  for  so  long  and  vainly.  The 
story  of  the  "surplus"  suggested  the  nucleus 
of  the  idea  that  was  to  form  the  plot.  Her 
imagination,  quickened  and  exhilarated, 
worked  dramatically.  She  had  a  thrill  at 
last,  a  real,  unequivocal  thrill. 

In  the  heyday  of  her  ecstasy  she  arose, 
lighted  a  lamp  and  wrote  without  faltering. 
It  was  dawn  when  she  had  the  synopsis  and 
salient  points  on  paper. 

When  she  went  to  her  hall  bedroom,  she 
brought  forth  her  banished  box  and  trans- 
formed her  little  figures  from  playmates  to 
captains  of  industry.  Under  their  quick 
response,  her  thoughts  flowed  like  ink  from  a 
pen  and  a  fountain  pen  at  that,  for  the  scenes 
followed  faster  than  she  could  use  them. 

As  the  days  went  on,  she  became  more  and 

more  of  a  recluse  and  worked  as  unceasingly 

and    absorbedly    as    Sydney    Marsden.     She 

became  reconciled  to  the  loss  of  Dumplings 

[228] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

and  the  financial  failure  of  the  bubbles.  She 
diminished  the  number  of  her  visits  to  the 
farm,  refused  Derry's  invitations  so  repeatedly 
that  he  ceased  to  make  them,  and  quite  for- 
sook the  Merediths,  although  this  meant  the 
forfeiture  of  a  most  delightful  acquaintance 
she  had  formed  with  Laurence  Felder,  a  young 
cousin  of  John  Meredith's,  who  was  making 
a  prolonged  stay  at  the  rectory. 

She  had  paid  one  visit  to  Corydon  Blake. 

"I  came  in  response  to  your  note,"  she  said 
demurely. 

"What  happened?"  he  asked.  "I  went 
down  there  again,  and  saw  a  snub-nosed  little 
girl  trying  to  play  the  part,  and  a  few  days 
later  the  window  was  vacant." 

"The  bubbles  burst,  as  all  my  bubbles 
have  a  way  of  doing." 

"I  am  glad  of  it.  The  stage  is  the  bubble 
for  you  —  the  one  that  will  not  burst." 

"  No ;  I'll  only  succeed  in  what  I  want  to 
succeed  in." 

"You'll  come  to  me  yet." 

"Yes,"  she  agreed,  smiling. 

"I'm  as  play-mad  as  J.  Perigreen,"  she 
told  herself,  "but  I  am  not  inflicting  my 
craze  on  others." 

[2291 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

The  inevitable  reaction  came.  One  night 
at  the  very  last  of  the  theatre  season,  she  felt 
a  lassitude  and  depression  that  smothered 
all  desire  to  write.  There  was  a  play  she 
longed  to  see,  but  it  was  not  at  the  theatre 
to  which  her  pass  admitted  her.  She  finally 
yielded  to  the  temptation  to  draw  upon  her 
meagre  capital  for  the  price  of  a  seat  in  the 
balcony  from  where  she  looked  down  upon 
as  much  or  as  little  as  was  allowed  to  her 
vision. 

After  the  play  had  begun,  she  saw  a  gay 
crowd  coming  into  one  of  the  boxes.  Derry, 
whom  she  had  not  seen  in  many  weeks,  was 
one  of  the  party,  and  beside  him  was  a  young 
woman  whose  eyes,  dark  and  misty,  turned 
to  his  frequently  and  piquantly. 

It  gave  Amarilly  a  queer  little  feeling, 
though  she  told  herself  that  this  was  as  it 
should  be,  and  that  she  was  glad  he  had  found 
one  of  his  own  kind. 

"Only  I  wish,"  she  thought  irrelevantly, 
"that  she  didn't  have  red  hair,  the  shade  of 
mine  —  almost." 

In  the  weeks  that  followed,  she  frequently 
saw  Derry  in  company  with  the  "girl  in  the 
box."  Once  they  passed  her  on  horseback 
[230] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

in  the  park.  With  them  was  a  young  man. 
Some  one  in  passing  designated  the  little 
group,  as  "Deny  Phillips,  the  artist,  Leonore 
Norman  and  her  brother  Jack." 

Derry  did  not  see  her,  and  she  throttled 
a  little  twinge. 

"It  was  what  I  was  wishing  for  him," 
she  reproached  herself,  "so  why  should  I 
mind?" 

Again  she  concentrated  upon  her  play  and 
at  last  she  realized  it  had  reached  the  point 
where  revision  should  end.  Then  began  the 
irksome  task  of  copying. 

"It's  more  satisfying  and  interesting, 
though,  to  copy  your  own  poor  stuff,  than  to 
click  the  keys  for  other  people's  brilliant  pro- 
ductions," she  decided. 

At  last  it  was  ready  for  inspection  and  she 
ventured  into  the  pragmatic  presence  of 
Corydon  Blake,  assuming  an  outward  air  of 
cheery  bravado  to  cover  an  inward  quaking 
of  courage. 

His  eyes  lighted  as  she  appeared  in  his 
office. 

"Something  told  me  you  would  come 
again.  What  have  you  in  that  box  —  your 
make-up?" 

[231  ] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

She  handed  him  a  roll  of  manuscript. 

"Then  you  didn't  recover  from  the  play- 
bug?"  he  asked  regretfully.  "I  have  read 
so  many,  many  plays." 

"The  reading  of  this  one  may  not  be  quite 
so  tedious  as  some,"  she  declared,  "because 
it  is  illustrated.  A  sort  of  moving  pictures 
goes  with  it." 

She  opened  the  box  and  set  out  her  stage. 

"If  you  will  follow  the  lines,"  she  pro- 
posed, "and  let  me  be  scene  shifter,  we'll  run 
through  with  it." 

"Plays,  plays  everywhere,"  he  said  with  a 
sigh,  "but  ne'er  a  plot  to  see.  If  people  were 
only  as  keen  to  go  to  plays  as  they  are  to 
write  them,  there  would  be  more  profit  in 
the  profession.  Well,  start  up  your  Punch 
and  Judy." 

She  soon  perceived  that  he  was  more 
interested  in  the  manipulation  of  the  little 
stage  than  he  was  in  the  lines,  to  which  he 
seemed  to  be  paying  but  scant  heed. 

"That's  all,"  she  said,  reaching  finis  for 
the  first  time  without  any  accompanying 
thrills,  but  with  the  feeling  that  the  produc- 
tion was  amateurish.  She  wondered  at  her 
presumption  in  bringing  it  to  him. 
[2321 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Is  it  very  bad?"  she  finally  ventured  to 
ask. 

"The  play?  Leave  it,  and  I'll  read  it  in 
cold  blood  without  the  glamour  of  your  little 
toy  there.  I'll  telephone  you  when  to  come 
again." 

"I  suppose,"  she  thought,  as  she  went  out 
into  the  street,  "I  should  feel  lucky  to  have 
Corydon  Blake  even  read  my  play.  It  is 
considered  a  feather  in  the  cap  of  fame  to 
say  you  have  had  one  refused  by  him.  I 
have  just  money  enough  to  take  me  home. 
I  trust  the  railroad  company  has  made  reim- 
bursement; otherwise  I  shall  have  to  do 
copying  again.  How  I  can  do  anything  but 
hold  my  breath,  though,  until  I  hear  the 
verdict  is  beyond  my  comprehension." 


[233 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXII 

\  MARILLY'S  announcement  to  her  family 
2~\  of  her  having  written  and  submitted  a 
play  met  with  great  applause,  but  their  op- 
timism as  to  its  fate  didn't  vanquish  her  feel- 
ing of  failure. 

She  made  a  second  announcement  in  the 
vernacular  that  would  be  the  most  compre- 
hensive to  them. 

"Mr.  Deny,"  she  said,  "has  a  girl !" 

She  met  with  her  usual  success  as  to  de- 
nouement, though  the  audience  were  stirred 
by  different  emotions.  Lily's  Rose's  spirits 
dropped  a  full  octave. 

"I  never  read  a  book  if  I  think  it's  a  goin* 
to  end  bad,"  she  thought,  "and  this  is  orfull !" 

When  the  full  gamut  of  surprise  and  curi- 
osity had  been  voiced  by  the  various  members 
of  the  family,  the  Boarder  finally  observed : 

"Now,  Amarilly,  it's  our  turn  to  tell  news." 

"Bad  news'll  keep,"  quickly  interposed 
Lily  Rose.  "Wait  till  to-morrer.  It's  bed- 
time." 

[234] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"No!"  vetoed  Amarilly.  "Let's  have  it 
now.  Newspapers  get  out  an  extra,  you 
know,  for  any  kind  of  news,  good  or  bad." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  spoke  Milton 
briskly.  "The  railroad  ain't  goin'  through 
our  place." 

The  electrifying  silence  was  broken  by  the 
Boarder's  sarcastic  comment : 

"We  hed  planned  fer  to  break  it  to  you 
gently,  Amarilly.  If  Milt  had  wanted  to 
spring  it  sudden,  I  don't  know  how  different 
he  could  have  said  it." 

"If  'twere  done,  'twere  well  'twere  done 
quickly,"  replied  Amarilly.  "What  hap- 
pened?" 

"They  changed  their  route." 

"Just  think!"  exclaimed  Lily  Rose,  revel- 
ling in  regret,  "what  can  be  done  by  — " 

"The  turn  of  a  switch,"  supplied  her  hus- 
band. 

"The  childerns'  eddication,  Gus's  ice  cream 
parlor,"  summed  up  Lily  Rose,  "Flammy's 
housekeeping  Bud's  singin'  lessons,  Bobby's 
college  and  wust  of  all,  Amarilly,  yer  weddin* 
trussow  all  — " 

"Ditched,"  finished  the  Boarder,  who  had 
returned  to  his  "song  of  the  road." 
[235] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Thar's  a  give  fer  every  take,"  said  Mrs. 
Jenkins,  rallying  to  the  emergency.  "No 
fear  now  of  Iry's  gittin'  run  down  by  the 
keers,  and  no  tellin'  what  night  calls  fer 
Western  trips  old  Cowslip  might  have  heard 
when  the  enjine  whistled.  Gus  kin  sell  ice 
cream  to  Sunday-school  picnics.  Bobby  kin 
work  through  college.  Bud  don't  need  no 
teacher  more'n  the  birds  do,  and  as  fer  yer 
weddin'  clo'es,  Amarilly  —  " 

"I'll  not  need  any,"  said  Amarilly. 

"Sure  you  will,"  declared  the  Boarder. 
"No  ginger-topped  gal  ever  got  sidetracked 
long  from  the  matrimonial  rail." 

"We  was  all  gettin'  fat  and  lazy  on  the 
thought  of  that  railroad  money,"  said  Mrs. 
Jenkins.  "Bad  luck'll  make  us  step  livelier. 
Easy  Street  livin'  makes  the  liver  slow  up." 

"How  did  the  railroad  people  come  to 
change  the  route?"  asked  Amarilly. 

"They  went  a  mile  to  the  east  instead. 
We're  railroaded,  all  right,  all  right,"  in- 
formed the  Boarder. 

"We  ain't  through  with  our  hard  luck 
story,"  said  Milton.  "Bud  — " 

"Oh,  what's  the  use  of  pilin'  on  your  sob 
stories!"  growled  Flamingus. 
[236] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  have  a  right  to  know,"  interposed 
Amarilly .  "  Is  it  Bud's  voice  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Bud.  "Maurel  says  1  will 
have  only  the  lightest  of  tenor  voices,  and 
there  will  be  nothing  doing  for  me  in  concert 
or  opera  —  not  even  a  church  choir." 

"Well,"  philosophized  Mrs.  Jenkins,  "you 
kin  be  a  pianny  tuner,  and  like  as  not  thar'll 
be  more  money  in  it." 

"We  don't  seem  to  be  in  step  with  luck," 
said  Amarilly. 

"But  you  know,"  said  the  Boarder,  "all 
trains  can't  have  right  of  way  all  the  time. 
Every  one  on  'em's  got  to  sidetrack  once  in 
a  while." 

"  Don't  act  like  you  was  settin'  on  the  edge 
of  your  cheer,  Amarilly,"  warned  Mrs.  Jen- 
kins. "Fust  thing  you  know,  you'll  be  up- 
set." • 

"Yes;  set  tight,  Amarilly,"  adjured  the 
Boarder. 

The  entrance  of  Courville  with  his  usual 
accompaniment  of  boy  and  dog  diverted  the 
conversation  from  the  family's  fallen  for- 
tunes. 

"Amarilly,"  asked  Dumplings  when  she 
was  taking  him  and  Pups  to  the  pantry,  "you 
[237] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

don't  mind  'cause  I  love  father  most  of  any- 
one, do  you?" 

"No,  no  !    I  am  glad,  Dumplings." 

"Father  and  I  belong,  same  as  Pups 
and  I  do.  It's  awful  nice  to  belong,  Ama- 
rilly." 

"It  must  be,"  agreed  Amarilly  wistfully. 

"Say,  Amarilly,  will  you  come  to  my  show 
to-morrow?  It's  a  penny  to  come  in,  but 
I'll  let  you  in  free." 

"That's  lucky  for  me,  Dumplings,  because 
I  haven't  a  penny  to  my  name." 

"Dead  broke,  Amarilly?"  he  asked  anx- 
iously and  comprehendingly,  recalling  his 
own  hard  luck  days. 

"That's  just  what  I  am,  dear !" 

"I  know  what  that  means,"  he  said  soberly. 
"Father  don't,  though.  He  most  likely  never 
will  know." 

"It  will  always  help  you,  Dumplings, 
dear,  and  help  others,  too,  —  that  you  do 
know." 

When  Courville  and  Dumplings  had  gone 
home  and  Amarilly  had  started  to  go  up- 
stairs, her  mother  said  consolingly  :  "Amarilly, 
thar  wouldn't  be  no  ups  if  there  wa'nt  no 
downs.  Pick  up  your  pieces." 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"There  are  no  pieces,"  thought  Amarilly 
disconsolately,  when  she  was  alone  in  her 
room.  "Things  seem  to  be  smashed  to  pow- 
der. But  there  is  nothing  I  can  do  about  it. 
I  can't  make  the  railroad  directors  change 
their  route,  I  can't  restore  Bud's  voice,  nor 
can  I  hypnotize  Corydon  Blake  into  accepting 
my  play.  But  all  these  things  seem  too  big 
propositions  to  handle,  and  the  little  bubble 
on  the  top  wave  of  my  sea  of  troubles  is  the 
most  appalling  —  the  inability  to  pay  my  fare 
back  to  town." 

Her  door  creaked,  and  Cory  looked  in. 

"It's  awful  late,  Amarilly,"  she  said  plain- 
tively, "but  may  I  come  in?" 

"Come  in,  Cory,  and  tell  me,"  she  said 
responsively. 

"Oh,  Amarilly,  I  was  going  to  take  my 
share  of  the  railroad  and  go  away  to  school 
the  way  you  done  —  did,  I  mean.  And  now, 
I  can't!" 

Her  voice  trailed  off  into  a  sob. 

"Here  I've  been  inventorying  my  own  little 
woes,"  thought  Amarilly  remorsefully,  "and 
never  once  thinking  about  the  others.  Poor 
little  Co !  I'll  transfer  some  of  my  self- 
sympathy  to  her." 

[239] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Come  and  sit  down  here,  Co,  and  we'll 
talk  about  it.  The  railroad  shall  not  make 
any  difference  in  your  plans.  Just  be  patient 
and  go  to  the  Haleboro  High  School  another 
year  and  then  I  promise  that  you  shall  go 
away  to  the  best  school  we  can  select.  If  I 
don't  make  enough  money  to  send  you,  there 
are  five  strapping  brothers  who  shall  chip  in 
and  help.  When  there  are  so  many  of  us,  it 
would  be  a  pity  if  we  couldn't  manage  to 
educate  one  little  sister." 

"Amarilly!"  cried  Cory  ecstatically,  "I 
never  can  do  anything  for  you,  but  I  can  love 
you  a  lot." 

"And  that  is  the  best  thing  anyone  can 
do,  Co." 

"You've  made  me  awful  happy." 

"Do  you  suppose  you  could  make  me 
happy,  too,  Amarilly?" 

Amarilly  turned  quickly  at  the  sound  of 
the  small,  dejected  voice.  There  were  lines 
of  mute  misery  in  Bud's  dark  eyes. 

"Oh,  Bud!" 

Her  voice  broke  a  little.  His  case  called 
for  something  money  could  not  bring. 

"You  may  have  lost  your  voice,  Bud,  but 
the  music  is  still  in  you,  and  it's  sure  to  come 
[240] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

out  in  some  way,  if  not  in  the  one  you  found 
for  a  little  while.  There  is  something  very 
much  like  the  human  voice  that  — " 

"The  violin  !"  guessed  Bud. 

"Maybe  you  could  learn  to  play  it.  We 
will  see,  Bud.  And  if  you  can't,  why,  music 
isn't  altogether  a  matter  of  sound  you  know. 
There's  music  in  everything.  Maybe  you 
will  grope  for  a  while,  but  you'll  find  the  way 
some  time.  Now  you  and  Co  go  to  sleep." 

"There!"  she  thought,  when  they  had 
gone  away,  comforted,  "I've  given  two 
promissory  notes  I  must  make  payment  on, 
so  work  instead  of  wails  for  me." 


[241 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

'  I  ^HE  next  morning  Iry  came  up  from  the 
JL     river  with  the  disturbing   news    that 
some  men  were  camping  in  the  woods  on  the 
bank. 

"And  we  put  up  a  big  sign  down  there, 
*No  trespassers!'"  exclaimed  the  Boarder. 

"What  is  the  objection?"  asked  Amarilly. 

"'They're  ginerally  a  lawless  lot,  stealing 
chickens  or  eggs  or  anything  they  can  lay 
their  hands  on." 

After  breakfast  Amarilly  went  out  to  hunt 
for  eggs.  The  hens  had  been  let  loose  from 
their  wired  confines  "to  pick  a  spring  living", 
Bobby  said,  and  they  had  acquired  a  habit 
of  promiscuous  and  desultory  depositing  of 
eggs  in  any  place  convenient,  so  that  the 
family  were  apt  to  stumble  on  an  egg-shelled 
path  at  any  step. 

Her  ears  were  assailed  by  the  shrieking  of 
a  distracted  looking  hen  in  the  vicinity  of 
some  wild  grapevines  down  in  the  lane  that 
led  to  the  river. 

[242] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"You  must  be  the  publicity  agent  of  the 
roost,"  apostrophized  Amarilly.  "I  think  I 
have  found  the  trail  to  your  nest." 

She  parted  the  vines  and  in  the  deep  grass 
she  came  upon  a  nest  without  eggs.  Some- 
thing shining  caught  her  eye  and  she  pounced 
upon  a  half  dollar  and  a  scrap  of  paper  on 
which  was  written : 

* 

"To  the  owner  of  these  Easter  joys:  If  you 
knew  how  sick  we  are  of  the  sight,  smell  and  taste 
of  fish,  I'm  sure  you  wouldn't  mind  doing  the 
buying  and  selling. 

"Yours  gratefully, 

"A.  CAMPER." 

"I  don't  know  how  much  the  eggs  are 
worth,  but  I  think  this  fifty  cents  is  right," 
said  Amarilly,  when  she  had  related  the  in- 
cident at  home. 

"Well,  I  guess,"  snickered  Bobby,  "they 
won't  think  the  eggs  are  worth  anything  when 
they  break  'em.  Those  eggs  were  most  ready 
to  be  hatched.  I  knew  the  nest  was  there." 

"In  that  case,"  said  Amarilly,  "they  owe 
us  for  spring  chickens." 

The  sound  of  an  automobile  in  the  road- 
way brought  the  family  to  the  door.  Derry 
[2431 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

had  motored  over  in  company  with  a  young 
man  whom  he  introduced  as  Jack  Norman. 

"Her  brother,"  thought  Amarilly. 

"There  seems  to  be  a  cloud  hanging  over 
Snydikit,  Amarilly,"  said  Derry  presently. 
"Your  mother  alone  appears  normal,  and 
Lily  Rose  gives  me  very  disturbing  looks  of 
silent  disapproval.  What  is  it  all  ?" 

"Nothing,"  replied  Amarilly,  "except  a 
few  things  such  as  the  railroad  snubbing  us 
and  passing  a  mile  to  the  east." 

"Really?" 

It  didn't  help  Amarilly's  frame  of  mind 
that  he  took  the  news  so  passively. 

"It's  the  first  time,"  she  thought,  walking 
abruptly  away  from  him,  "that  he  doesn't 
seem — sympatica.  I  think  our  Italian  teacher 
was  right  when  she  said  we  had  no  substitute 
for  that  word.  It  must  be  because  he  is  in 
love,  and  indifferent  to  everything  but  her." 

She  came  up  to  the  veranda  where  Jack 
Norman  was  eating  jelly-cake  and  drinking 
milk. 

He  looked  at  her  most  appreciatively. 

"Say,"  he  said  in  a  burst  of  emotion,  "don't 
you  want  to  take  a  whirl  down  the  lane  or 
somewhere?" 

[244] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Yes!"  accepted  Amarilly,  who  felt  that 
the  thing  most  to  be  desired  just  then  would 
be  to  ride  fast  and  far.  "Not  down  the  lane, 
though,  because  ours  has  a  turning  —  into 
bogs ;  but  there  is  a  highway." 

"Then  let's  hit  that  highway,"  he  suggested 
promptly,  putting  down  his  glass. 

Derry  stared  in  bewilderment  after  the 
swiftly  vanishing  car,  his  attention  finally 
diverted  from  the  cloud  of  dust  by  a  still, 
small  voice. 

"Halloa,  Mr.  Derry!     I  came  across  lots." 

"Why,  halloa,  Dumps!"  replied  Derry, 
lifting  the  small  person  to  his  shoulder. 

"Let's  walk  a  piece,  Mr.  Derry.  I  want 
to  tell  you  a  secret." 

"Sure,  we  will,  Dumps,  what  'tis?"  he 
asked,  striding  quickly  away. 

"You  won't  tell,  hope  to  die,  cross  your 
heart?" 

"Double  cross  it,  Dumps." 

"Well,  Amarilly 's  dead  broke  !" 

"Really?"  asked  Derry,  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye. 

"Yes;  and  besides  the  railroad  going  the 
wrong  way,  Bud's  voice  didn't  come  back. 
It's  just  going  to  be  a  little  one  for  a  cent." 
[245] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

At  this  information  Derry's  concern  was 
quite  apparent.  He  knew  what  Bud's  voice 
was  to  Amarilly. 

"You  don't  know  what  it  is  to  be  dead 
broke,"  resumed  Dumplings.  "Neither  does 
father.  I  do,  though." 

"  Wise  Dumplings !  How  do  you  happen 
to  know  that  Amarilly's  dead  broke?" 

"She  told  me,  and  I  told  father,  and  he 
said  it  was  too  bad ;  but  that  there  was  noth- 
ing we  could  do,  because  she  is  so  proud  and 
independent." 

"Don't  worry,  Dumps,"  said  Derry  care- 
lessly. "Amarilly's  been  'dead  broke'  a 
great  many  times,  and  found  a  way  out  of 
the  fix.  Let's  go  up  to  the  house.  I  am 
hungry,  or  thirsty,  for  some  of  that  milk. 
Hope  the  greedy  Norman  left  some." 

When  Amarilly  returned  from  her  ride,  she 
was  seemingly  in  better  spirits. 

"I  understand,"  said  Derry,  coming  up 
to  her,  as  she  was  talking  to  Dumplings, 
"that  you  are  dead  broke." 

"That  was  last  night,"  she  replied,  with  a 
little  smile.  "Half  a  dollar  has  fallen  mirac- 
ulously into  my  hands  this  morning." 

"Half  a  dollar!  Gee!  Some  dough,"  ex- 
[246] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

claimed  Dumplings.  "Where  did  you  get  it, 
Amarilly?" 

"In  a  magic  nest.  Wait  until  I  read  you 
this  little  note,  and  see  if  you  believe  in 
fairies." 

"Are  you  going  back  to  town  to-day?" 
asked  Deny,  when  Dumplings'  laughter  over 
the  condition  of  the  eggs  which  Amarilly 
described  had  subsided. 

"No ;  I  am  going  to  stay  two  or  three  days 
and  get  half  a  dollar's  worth  of  fun  from  A. 
Camper.  It  isn't  enough  to  do  anything 
else  with." 

Young  Norman  joined  them  then  and  was 
reluctantly  taken  away  by  Deny,  who  said 
they  had  a  long  drive  ahead  of  them. 

The  next  morning  Amarilly  reconnoitred 
along  the  river  bank,  and  when  she  had 
satisfied  herself  that  the  campers  were  not 
at  home,  she  went  to  the  rear  of  the  tent  and 
absconded  a  pan  of  delicately  tinted  little 
brook  trout.  She  next  wrapped  the  silver 
half  dollar  in  a  piece  of  paper  and  weighed  it 
down  with  a  stone.  On  the  paper  she  had 
written : 

"There  is  no  selling  —  or  giving  —  at  this 
place  —  to  trespassers.  Since  you  are  so 
[247] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

tired  of  eating  fish  (we  are  not),  it  will  be  an 
act  of  charity  to  take  the  trout  from  you.  If 
you  let  the  eggs  set  one  day  longer,  you'll  have 
pullets  and  will  owe  us  the  market  price." 

That  evening  when  Amarilly  went  with 
Gus  and  Bobby  to  witness  a  milking  contest, 
she  found  Cowslip  wearing  a  wreath  of  field 
flowers.  Fastened  to  this  wreath  was  a 
tobacco  bag  containing  a  ten  dollar  bill  and 
a  note. 

"The  cows  were  in  the  pasture,  and  I  could 
not  resist  attempting  the  role  of  the  Merry  Milk- 
maid. This  patient,  gentle  animal  seemed  over- 
stocked with  milk  and  was  quite  grateful  to  me 
for  my  inexperienced  but  effectual  efforts  to 
relieve  her  of  her  load.  As  we  seem  to  have  de- 
prived you  of  one  dozen  spring  chickens,  I  am 
hereby  paying  for  same. 

"Again  yours, 

"A.  CAMPER." 

"As  soon  as  you  have  finished  milking, 
Gus,"  directed  Amarilly,  "take  this  money 
back  to  A.  Camper  and  tell  him  he  can  pay 
for  the  amount  of  milk  he  purloined.  He 
shouldn't  have  taken  me  seriously  about  the 
chickens." 

It  was  late  before  Gus  found  time  to  go  to 
[248] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

the  river  and  he  returned  with  the  information 
that  the  campers  had  decamped,  and  there 
was  no  clue  to  their  identity. 

"What  will  we  do  with  the  money?"  he 
asked  in  consternation.  "It  isn't  coming  to 
us." 

"I  shall  borrow  it,"  decided  Amarilly, 
"until  we  find  out  who  my  friend  in  need  is. 
Then  I'll  pay  back." 

"Bless  A.  Camper!"  she  thought,  as  she 
took  the  train  into  town  the  next  day.  "He's 
given  me  a  tide-over  and  an  idea.  If  the 
play  is  discarded,  I'll  rent  the  camping  con- 
cessions on  our  river  bank  and  sell  eggs  and 
other  commodities  to  A.  Campers  and  others. 
If  I  could  endure  a  permanent  country  resi- 
dence, I'd  take  up  farming  and  make  every 
inch  of  soil  produce.  I'd  even  convert  Lily 
Rose's  beloved  flowers  into  Dutch  bouquets 
and  sell  them  in  the  city.  Ma's  cottage 
cheese  and  spice  cakes  would  go  to  tea  rooms. 
When  I  think  how  much  there  is  waiting  to 
be  sold,  and  how  many  people  there  are  long- 
ing to  buy  —  anything  —  I  wonder  why  there 
are  not  more  middlemen  to  bring  them  to- 
gether. Somewhere  there  is  a  buyer  for 
everything  —  even  for  a  poor  play,  maybe." 
[249] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

WHEN  Amarilly  reached  her  room  she 
found  notice  of  a  telephone  call  from 
Blake. 

"I'll  brace  up  my  courage  to  meet  any  fate," 
she  thought,  as  she  was  admitted  to  his  inner 
office. 

"Glad  you  called,"  he  said.  "I  want  your 
nifty  little  play." 

Her  heart  spun  around  a  few  times  and 
then  slackened  so  suddenly  she  feared  it  had 
stopped. 

"Of  course,"  he  continued,  "there  will 
have  to  be  many  changes,  you  know." 

"I  know,"  she  conceded,  " Laurence Felder 
told  me  what  is  done  to  plays.  They're 
made  into  Aladdin  houses  and  sawed  out  and 
sectioned  and  put  up  and  taken  down." 

"There's  plenty  of  good  timber  in  this  to  do 
almost  anything  with." 

The  surprise  and  relief  in  having  the  play 
accepted  went  like  wine  to  Amarilly's  head, 
[250] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

but  she  quickly  rallied  and  was  jog-trotting 
along  again  like  a  sturdy,  little  Shetland  pony 
in  the  commercial  path  of  the  business  details 
in  connection  with  the  matter. 

When  she  was  leaving,  she  felt  that  she 
must  give  some  expression  of  what  it  all  meant 
to  her. 

"I  hope  that  some  time  you  will  feel  as 
happy  as  I  do  at  this  moment,"  she  said,  a 
smile  of  rainbow  brilliance  on  her  lips. 

"You  have  a  right  to  be  happy,"  he  replied. 
"You  are  an  artist  at  settings  and  situations. 
That  tenement  interior  in  the  first  act  is  won- 
derful—  poverty  without  squalor  —  the  cot- 
tage was  cleverly  correct  and  the  country 
house  elegantly  simple  —  all  in  harmony. 
Where  did  you  get  the  atmosphere,  and  for 
the  studio,  too  ?" 

"  I  was  bred  in  a  tenement  and  I  was  every- 
where behind  the  scenes  at  Barlow's.  Once 
I  took  care  of  a  studio  for  an  artist  and  in 
one  of  my  college  vacations  I  acted  as  tutor 
at  the  'simple  country  home  of  one  of  my 
classmates.'" 

"No  wonder  you  are  so  versatile;   but  we 
must  begin  at  once  to  collaborate  and  revise. 
Come  down  at  this  hour  to-morrow." 
[251] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Which  means,"  interpreted  Amarilly,  as 
she  left  the  office,  "that  he'll  re-write  the 
play,  and  I  must  subscribe  to  all  he  says.  I 
shall  try  to  pull  a  willing  second  oar.  Mr. 
St.  John  says  it  is  a  gift  to  be  able  and  ready 
to  follow.  I  think  I  can  soon  make  good  on 
my  promises  to  Bud  and  Co.  It  seems  as  if 
I  ought  to  do  something  unusual  to  celebrate. 
Half  the  pleasure  in  a  piece  of  good  luck  is 
telling  it  to  a  confidant.  I  haven't  time  to  go 
home.  Mr.  Derry  seems  no  longer  interested 
or  available.  Mr.  Courville  is  absorbed  in 
Dumplings,  bless  his  heart !  I  might  adver- 
tise for  one  A.  Camper." 

As  she  momentarily  paused  in  front  of  an 
alluring  shop  window,  she  heard  a  voice  in 
transit  say,  "Mrs.  Meredith  has  come  home." 

Quickly  she  caught  a  car  and  was  in  a  short 
time  admitted  to  Colette's  sitting-room. 

"Amarilly,  you  look  the  personification  of 
the  beatitudes!  What  has  happened?" 

"Oh,  Mrs.  St.  John,  I  have  written  a  play, 
and  Mr.  Corydon  Blake  has  taken  it !  I 
came  right  from  his  office  to  tell  you." 

"Amarilly,  you  always  did  shoot  out  as- 
tounding news  like  a  Zeppelin.  It  carries 
me  back  to  the  '  surplus  days '  when  you  came 
[252] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

to  me  in  a  wake  of  a  whirlwind  with  some 
sensational  announcement.  It  was  the  thing 
of  things  for  you  to  do,  you  little  product  of 
Barlow's,  and  so  of  course  you  did  it,  and  is  it 
what  you  had  up  your  sleeve  those  type- 
writing days?  What  does  Mr.  Deny  think? 
I'll  call  him  up,  and  we'll  have  a  little  cele- 
bration." 

"No!"  protested  Amarilly  quickly.  "I 
just  heard  that  you  were  home,  so  I  ran  in 
for  a  moment  to  tell  you." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  Derry 
Phillips  doesn't  know?" 

"I  told  no  one.  I  was  afraid  I  should  fail, 
and  I  only  just  learned  that  it  was  accepted." 

"Then  I  shall  share  the  excitement  of 
hearing  you  tell  him." 

"  No,"  pleaded  Amarilly.  "  I  must  really  go 
and  send  a  line  home.  Anyway,  Mr.  Derry 
couldn't  come.  He'd  be  engaged." 

"Haven't  you  been  seeing  him  lately?" 
asked  Colette,  as  she  looked  keenly  into 
Amarilly's  candid  eyes. 

"  No ;  I've  been  working  all  the  time  on  the 
play,  and  then  he  —  well,  he  has  a  sweet- 
heart —  and  she  has  —  red  hair !" 

"Amarilly,  are  you  sure !" 
[253] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Yes;  I've  seen  them  together  at  the 
theatre,  in  the  park,  motoring,  on  horseback 
and  —  but  I  want  to  tell  you  about  my  play." 

Collette's  interest  in  the  play,  however, 
was  not  quite  so  keen  at  present  as  her  anxiety 
over  Derry's  digression,  and  she  telephoned 
the  young  artist  as  soon  as  Amarilly  had  left 
the  house.  She  told  him  she  had  just  re- 
turned and  had  some  wonderful  news  to 
impart.  He  quickly  responded  in  person, 
but  heard  her  news  without  apparent  enthu- 
siasm. 

"Maybe,"  he  said,  with  a  little  laugh, 
"that  is  why  Amarilly  has  turned  me  down  so 
hard  the  last  few  months." 

"But  she  claims  you  have  been  otherwise 
engaged  —  with  some  one  with  red  hair  ! " 

"Yes,  I  have.     Leonore  Norman." 

After  this  explanation  he  deftly  changed  the 
conversation. 

The  summer  was  like  a  long  drawn  interlude 
to  Amarilly.  She  bridged  over  the  period 
that  must  elapse  before  the  production  of 
her  play  by  tutoring  Cory  and  solacing  Bud. 

Colette  was  with  her  parents  at  their 
summer  home  and  Derry  had  gone  west  with 
the  Norman  family. 

[254] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

In  the  latter  part  of  August  Amarilly  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Brenda.  Looking  up 
at  the  end  of  her  second  perusal,  she  caught 
the  wistfulness  in  the  eyes  of  Lily  Rose. 

"Would  you  like  to  read  it,  Lily  Rose?" 
she  asked.  "One  part  will  interest  you,  I 
feel  sure." 

Lily  Rose  reached  eagerly  for  the  extended 
letter  and  was  soon  absorbed  in  its  contents. 

"It's  gittin'  turribly  excitin',"  she  confided 
to  her  husband  later  that  night.  "Just  like 
them  weekly  continued  movies.  That  there 
Brenda's  ranch  is  next  to  one  them  Normans 
and  Mr.  Derry  is  a-stoppin'  at.  It's  run  by 
a  feller  named  Billy  Somers,  and  he  —  he  is 
engaged  to  the  redheaded  gal  Mr.  Derry's 
been  rushin',  and  Mr.  Derry  has  been  pain  tin' 
her  likeness  all  this  time  for  her  to  give  to 
her  feller." 

"Wasn't  a-paintin'  of  her  likeness  when 
they  was  to  shows  and  a  ridin'  in  the  park, 
was  he?"  asked  her  husband  skeptically. 

"Sure  thing.  They  hev  to  do  that  way. 
Mr.  Derry  explained  to  me  onct.  He  said 
to  git  a  good  likeness  of  anyone,  you  must 
see  how  they  look  at  all  times  and  git  all  their 
looks  into  one  look.  I  suppose  he  was  lone- 
[255] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

some.  Amarilly  was  writin'  and  mebby  he 
was  tryin'  to  make  her  jealous ;  or  mebby  he 
liked  to  look  at  her  red  hair  and  pertend  it 
was  Amarilly 's." 

"She  has  only  paved  the  way  for  some  one 
else,"  Amarilly  was  thinking.  "But  some- 
how, I  am  glad  she  is  not  the  one.  I  think 
I'd  rather  it  would  be  some  one  whose  hair 
wasn't  red." 


256] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXV 

ON  the  night  of  the  first  production  of 
Amarilly's  play,  the  Jenkins  family, 
including  Almy,  occupied  a  row  of  seats  in 
the  balcony.  There  had  been  many  diversions 
en  route  to  their  goal.  Twice  had  Iry  been 
jerked  from  underneath  passing  motors,  which 
episodes  to  him  were  as  nothing  compared  with 
the  awful  calamity  of  his  having  swallowed  a 
nickel.  Ceely  lost  her  hat,  and  there  had 
been  various  minor  mishaps,  but  at  last  they 
had  arrived,  as  Bobby  said,  "right  side  up." 

Amarilly  had  scarcely  taken  her  seat  when 
she  heard  a  voice  behind  her  saying : 

"There  is  a  comfortable,  chummy  feeling 
in  being  up  here,  after  all." 

She  turned  quickly. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Derry!" 

At  sight  of  her  strained,  anxious  expression, 
his  levity  vanished. 

"Come  back  here,  Amarilly,  and  sit  with 
me.     I  have  an  extra  seat  for  you." 
[257] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Go  onv  Amarilly,"  urged  Lily  Rose,  feel- 
ing that  this  was  all  that  was  needed  to  make 
her  evening  perfect. 

"Sure,  go  set  with  him,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins 
placidly. 

An  impatient  shove  from  Flamingus,  and 
his  "Oh,  g'wan,  Amarilly,"  decided  her. 

"I  know  how  you  feel,"  said  Derry,  as  she 
occupied  the  seat  next  him.  "I  remember 
when  my  first  picture  was  hung,  I  lingered  in 
the  outskirts,  fearful  that  I  would  not  recog- 
nize it  in  so  unusual  and  unexpected  a  place." 

"It  must  be  like  tryin'  a  new  receipt," 
Mrs.  Jenkins  was  remarking  to  Flammy's 
girl.  "It  sounds  tasty,  but  you  hev  your 
misgivin's  after  you've  shet  the  ovin  door. 
You  know  you've  mixed  and  measured  the 
way  it  said,  and  yet  you're  skeert  till  it's 
done." 

"Of  course,"  said  Derry  reproachfully, 
"you  knew  the  St.  Johns  wouldn't  come  up 
here,  but  you  might  have  known  how  I 
would  want  to  be  with  you  anywhere.  I  felt 
sure  that  this  was  where  I  would  find  you,  so 
I  lay  in  wait.  Why  didn't  you  ask  me?" 

"I  thought  that  you  would  be  with  your 
friends." 

[2581 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"You  know  whom  I  consider  my  nearest 
friends.  There  come  the  Merediths  now.  I 
should  have  thought  you  would  have  liked  to 
sit  where  you  could  watch  J.  Perigreen  match- 
ing his  last  syllable  in  envy." 

Amarilly  scarcely  heard  him.  As  warily  as 
a  cat  watches  for  the  first  glimpse  of  a  mouse 
whisker,  she  was  awaiting  the  rise  of  the 
curtain. 

Throughout  the  evening  she  sat  statuesque, 
endeavoring  to  judge  the  play  on  its  merits 
alone,  as  critically  and  impartially  as  Blake 
himself  would  do. 

Every  now  and  then  Derry  turned  from  the 
scenes  on  the  stage  to  watch  the  absorbed 
young  face  beside  him.  He  recognized  the 
kindred  spirit  of  the  artist  seeking  the  con- 
firmation of  her  conception,  longing  to  know 
if  her  lines  rang  true.  He  felt  that  he  alone 
in  that  whole  house  knew  what  she  was  under- 
going, and  the  knowledge  seemed  to  bring 
them  nearer.  In  fancy  he  followed  her  from 
the  altitudes  of  rapture  down  to  the  depths 
of  apprehension  and  misinterpretation.  He 
was  conscious  of  a  swift  arousing  from  his 
former  diplomatic  dallying  and  whimsical 
deference  to  Amarilly's  opposition.  He  was 
[259] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

no  longer  content  to  wait  for  a  propitious, 
psychological  moment.  Suddenly  the  loft 
of  the  theatre  was  freighted  with  the  sweetness 
of  a  cooling  breeze  on  a  tropical  night. 

The  dreaded  part,  the  big  scene,  was  over. 
With  a  little  sigh  of  relief,  Amarilly  relaxed 
her  tension.  A  cool,  sustaining  hand  slipped 
into  hers.  Then  she  remembered  Derry, 
and  she  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  propin- 
quity, a  glad  knowledge  of  a  subconscious 
intimacy  that  filled  her  with  content  at  his 
presence  beside  her.  From  scene  to  scene 
she  now  grew  more  exhilarated.  Not  because 
the  audience  were  giving  such  spontaneous  and 
prolonged  applause,  but  because  she  felt  that 
the  play  rang  true. 

When  the  last  applause  had  died  away  and 
the  family  rose  to  go,  Lily  Rose  invited  Derry 
to  go  home  with  them. 

"Almy's  ma  is  gettin'  supper  for  us,"  she 
informed  him. 

He  didn't  separate  the  little  party  by  men- 
tioning his  car,  but  rode  out  with  them  in 
the  interurban. 

"I  am  glad  for  you,  Amarilly,"  was  all  he 
had  said,  when  they  were  leaving  the  theatre. 

"I  could  never  have  done  it  but  for  you, 
[260] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Mr.  Deny,  and  the  wish  to  show  you  that  I 
could  make  good." 

"  Except  that  it  pleased  you,  Amarilly,  I 
didn't  care  whether  you  'made  good'  or  not. 
I'd  like  you  just  as  well  if  you  had  remained 
the  little  Amarilly  of  'surplus'  days.  All  I 
gave  you  was  the  chance  to  get  an  education 
because  I  saw  how  much  you  wanted  one." 

Amarilly  looked  at  him  with  a  rueful  expres- 
sion in  her  eyes. 

"All  the  time  you  were  writing  your  play, 
I  knew  you  were  deep  in  some  project,  so 
I  submitted  temporarily  to  being  utterly 
ignored.  But  now  that  it  is  all  out  of  your 
system,  I  feel  that  I  have  reached  my  limit 
of  waiting,  and  you  are  not  going  to  shut  me 
out  any  longer.  I  shall  at  least  sit  by  and 
hand  you  pencils.  And,  by  the  way,  Amarilly, 
you  are  sure  you  are  still  heart  whole?" 

"Why,  yes,  Mr.  Derry." 

"You  have  had  so  many  —  approaches." 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Derry?" 

"I  know  all  about  the  presumption  of 
Courville's  offering  you  the  post  of  step- 
mother to  Dumps." 

"How—" 

"Never  mind.  I  surmised  it  would  happen 
[261] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

that  day  we  were  down  in  the  woods  and  he 
stepped  so  high.  But  whereabouts  are  the 
Courville  family?  I  didn't  see  them." 

"Pups  is  very  ill.  Of  course  Dumplings 
wouldn't  desert  him,  and  Mr.  Courville 
wouldn't  leave  them  at  such  a  time." 

"Poor  Pups!  But  if  he  passes  on,  there 
will  be  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  his 
life  of  prayer  must  lead  him  to  Paradise;  to 
resume:  there  is  Laurence  Felder — " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Deny  !"  she  cried  in  real  distress. 

"  Murder  will  out.  He  confided  in  his  warm 
adviser,  John  Meredith,  who  in  turn  told  his 
wife—" 

"He  should  have  known  better." 

"Who?     John  Meredith,  or  Laurence?" 

"  Mr.  Felder.     But  that  was  over  quickly  ! " 

"Which  sounds  like  Try  when  your  mother 
gives  him  a  dose  of  medicine.  He  says 
'Thath  over!'  and  then  clamors  for  pie. 
I  myself  shooed  Jack  Norman  off  the  track 
last  spring." 

"At  least,  I  have  one  romance  of  which 
you  know  nothing." 

"Tell  me,"  he  demanded  quickly. 

"A.  Camper.  Let  me  tell  you  the  sequel 
to  the  nest  egg." 

[262] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

She  told  him  the  particulars  of  the  chicken 
deal  and  the  opportuneness  of  the  ten- 
dollar  loan. 

"I  liked  his  notes,"  she  concluded,  "and  he 
has  the  charm  of  the  unknown.  I  must  find 
out  who  he  is." 

"Why  must?" 

"I  am  under  obligations  to  him,  which  I 
must  pay,  of  course.  I  wish  I  could  do  some- 
thing for  him." 

"You  can.     Behold  in  me,  A.  Camper." 

"No  !"  exclaimed  Amarilly  incredulously. 

He  produced  a  bill  book  and  from  between 
its  leaves  took  two  folded  bits  of  paper. 

Amarilly  surveyed  her  note  in  dismay. 

"I  don't  see— " 

"Jack  Norman  had  the  fishing  fever  last 
spring  and  lugged  me  along  with  him.  You 
know  I  am  not  long  on  localities.  He  lost 
his  bearings  and  we  motored  all  over  the 
county  before  he  found  a  place  to  his  liking. 
I  hadn't  the  slightest  idea  where  we  were 
when  we  pitched  camp.  He  went  off  one  day 
in  search  of  a  trout  pool  and  left  me  to  pre- 
pare the  next  meal.  You  remember  my 
limitations  in  that  direction.  I  went  foraging 
around  until  I  found  a  hen's  nest  which  was 
[263] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

loaded  —  and  you  know  the  rest.  The  next 
day  Norman  suggested  a  ride  and  by  circuitous 
route  we  drew  up,  to  my  surprise,  in  your 
front  yard.  Dear  little  Dumps  told  me  you 
were  dead  broke,  and  when  you  mentioned 
the  nest,  I  knew  whom  I  had  robbed,  and  saw 
an  opportunity  to  finance  you.  Now  that 
you  are  a  playwright,  I  can  tell  you.  I 
didn't  dare  leave  more  than  I  did,  for  fear 
you'd  employ  a  detective;  and  I  knew  of 
old  how  far  you  can  make  a  ten-spot  go.  As 
you  have  expressed  a  desire  to  do  something 
for  A.  Camper,  I'll  ask  you  to — " 

There  was  the  click  of  her  purse  and  a  ten 
dollar  bill  was  extended. 

"Amarilly,  you  little  imp,  you  know 
that  wasn't  what  I  meant!  If  you  care 
for  me,  or  A.  Camper,  or  both  of  us,  will 
you  grant  me  the  one  thing  I  ever  asked  of 
you  —  the  one  thing  I've  always  asked  of 
you?" 

"Wait,  Mr.  Deny.  I've  thought  it  over 
many  a  time  and  I  know  that  it's  best  for 
you  and  your  happiness  for  me  to  say  no. 
I'm  sorry  — " 

Milton  rushed  up  and  interrupted. 

"Amarilly,  I've  been  figuring  up  your 
[264] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

share  of  the  profits  for  the  season.     It  will  be 
whopping." 

"Milton,"  said  Amarilly  whimsically,  "you 
must  learn  that  figures  do  lie  when  you  are 
counting  your  own  profits." 

It  was  a  gay  party  that  sat  down  to  the 
big,  sumptuously-spread  table  at  which  Mrs. 
Jenkins  proudly  presided. 

"I  held  my  breath  for  six  minutes  in  that 
one  place,"  confessed  the  Boarder,  when  they 
were  chatting  of  the  play. 

"Yes;  and  when  he  let  go,"  said  Bobby, 
"he  pretty  near  swore.  He  said — " 

"Switch  off  there,  Bobby  !"  admonished  the 
Boarder. 

"There  was  one  time,"  said  Lily  Rose, 
"when  I  was  skeert  for  fear  'twouldn't  come 
out  all  right." 

Amarilly  was  silent ;  too  happy  for  words. 
A  hundred  little  sparks  of  golden  light  flashed 
in  her  eyes,  and  Derry  gazed  upon  her 
with  the  combined  admiration  of  lover  and 
artist. 

The  limitations  in  speech  and  station  of 
those  about  her  affected  him  not  a  jot.  He 
knew  what  they  all  were  in  heart,  and  what 
they  were  to  her. 

[265] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Though  they  spoke  in  a  language  different 
from  his,  he  saw  in  the  Boarder's  grey  eyes  the 
reflection  from  a  big  heart  and  in  the  voices  of 
Mrs.  Jenkins  and  Lily  Rose  he  heard  the  ring 
of  sincerity. 

Suddenly  Lily  Rose  voiced  something  of 
what  he  was  thinking. 

"Amarilly,  I  read  something  to-day  that 
would  be  orful  purty  in  a  play." 

"What  was  it,  Lily  Rose?"  asked  Amarilly. 

"Hearts  of  Gold  are  better  nor  Tongues  of 
Silver." 

"Thank  you,  Lily  Rose,"  said  Deny  softly. 

She  looked  at  him  perplexedly. 

"You've  got  both,  Mr.  Derry,"  she  declared 
emphatically. 

"Thank  you  again,  Lily  Rose." 

When  they  arose  from  the  table,  Flamingus 
escorted  Almy  and  his  prospective  mother-in- 
law  to  their  home.  The  Boarder  and  the 
older  boys  went  out  to  the  barn,  "to  look  after 
things ",  and  Lily  Rose  began  to  shoo  the 
younger  of  the  household  stairward. 

"Clearing  the  track  for  the  Lovers'  Limited 
Special  ?"  facetiously  asked  her  husband,  as  he 
lighted  the  lantern. 

Amarilly's  thoughts,  however,  were  far  away 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

from  love  and  Deny.  The  dim  theatre,  the 
luminous  stage,  the  subdued  music,  the  play  — 
so  familiar  and  yet  so  strange  —  the  applaud- 
ing audience  all  made  one  beautiful  complete 
whole  in  her  rosary  of  remembrance,  and  she 
longed  to  be  alone.  She  thwarted  all  Lily 
Rose's  efforts  and  followed  the  flock  upward. 
To  her  dismay,  Lily  Rose  found  herself 
stranded  with  the  would-be  wooer. 

"Lily  Rose,"  he  asked,  "can't  you  tell  me 
why?" 

"I  think  I  can,  Mr.  Derry,"  she  replied 
earnestly.  "I've  thought  it  all  out,  same  as 
Amarilly  does  her  plays.  In  the  first  place 
she's  as  proud  as  Potiphar." 

She  paused  in  secret  admiration  of  this 
simile.  She  had  recently  read  it  in  a  book 
and  had  had  no  idea  how  fine  it  would  sound. 

"And  most  likely,"  she  resumed,  "she 
thinks  she's  beneath  you.  But  you  see, 
Amarilly  is  one  of  them  kind  of  women  what's 
got  to  mother  someone.  When  she  had  her 
folks  to  look  after  back  in  the  alley,  she  was 
in  her  elements.  When  she  was  takin'  keer 
of  your  studio  and  cookin'  for  you,  she  had 
you  under  her  wing,  and  I  bet  at  schooll  she 
looked  out  for  some  of  them  girls  and  their 
[267] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

things  like  a  reg'lar  old  mother  hen.  When 
she  come  home  here  she  was  like  a  fish  out  of 
water  till  Dumplings  and  Pups  come  along. 
After  she  lost  them,  she  mothered  her  play. 
If  you  could  only  make  her  think  you  needed 
her  awful  bad  —  if  you  was  to  get  sick  or 
poor — " 

"Lily  Rose,  I  can't  get  sick.  I  am  too 
disgracefully  healthy.  And  I  have  such  a 
contempt  for  money,  I  can't  lose  it.  The 
more  extravagant  I  am,  the  faster  my  divi- 
dends seem  to  multiply." 

"You  might  give  it  all  to  the  poor,"  sug- 
gested Lily  Rose,  recalling  the  serial  story 
she  was  reading,  "and  then  if  you  were  poor 
in  a  garret,  she'd  come  to  you." 

"That  sounds  alluring,"  said  Derry,  "but 
not  feasible.  You  see  pride  seems  to  be 
married  to  poverty,  and  I'd  probably  get  too 
proud  to  let  her  share  my  garret  home.  And, 
somehow,  Lily  Rose,  your  plan  doesn't  sound 
practical.  I  am  sure  our  sensible  Amarilly 
would  tell  me  I  was  a  fool  to  give  all  my 
worldly  goods  to  the  poor ;  that  I  should  at 
least  have  kept  out  enough  for  two  rooms 
and  a  bath." 

"Well,  I  can't  think  of  anything  else  just 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

now,"  said  Lily  Rose  with  a  sigh,  "but  a 
way  will  come.  It  always  does." 

"In  books  and  air-castles,"  he  remarked, 
as  he  went  up  to  his  room,  where  he  pondered 
long  over  ways  and  means  of  unlocking  the 
door  to  Amarilly's  heart.  She  seemed  to 
him  a  perfect  companion,  in  harmonious 
accord  with  all  his  moods ;  self-reliant  and 
resourceful,  yet  with  delightful  little  streaks 
of  femininity.  For  all  her  courage  of  the 
strong,  he  felt  in  a  subtle,  undefined  way 
that  she  would  be  dependent  upon  him  should 
her  hour  of  need  come  to  her. 

"Like  Lily  Rose,"  he  said,  "I  can  think  of 
no  way  now,  but  one  shall  come." 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  next  morning  Derry  stood  in  the 
roadway  in  front  of  the  house  when 
Courville  and  Dumplings  came  along.  The 
latter  was  garbed  in  an  up-to-the-minute 
hunting  outfit  and  proudly  brandished  a 
small  rifle. 

"Pups  is  most  well,  Mr.  Derry,"  he  cried. 

"I  am  so  glad,"  exclaimed  Derry. 

"We've  got  a  lot  to  be  glad  about  to-day," 
said  Dumplings.  "Father  got  the  morning 
papers,  all  about  Amarilly's  play,  and  we  are 
going  to  see  it  to-night.  If  Pups  hadn't 
been  so  sick,  we  would  have  gone  last  night." 

"Where  is  Amarilly?"  asked  Courville. 
"We  came  this  way  to  congratulate  her." 

"She  isn't  up  yet." 

"I  am  taking  the  boy  out  for  his  first  hunt. 
Don't  you  want  to  come  down  to  the  woods 
with  us?" 

"Yes,  please  come,  and  see  me  shoot!" 
entreated  Dumplings. 

[270] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"Sure  I'll  come,"  said  Derry.  "I'll  see 
what  I  can  find  in  the  way  of  a  weapon." 

The  Boarder  furnished  an  ancient  type  of 
rifle  and  the  three  went  on  to  the  woods. 
By  the  river  they  met  Iry  who  looked  so 
longingly  at  Dumplings'  rifle  that  Derry 
invited  him  to  join  the  party. 

"You  can  be  game  carrier,  Iry,  and  maybe 
Dumps  will  let  you  try  his  rifle  once." 

"Of  course  he  will,"  said  Courville. 

"Of  course  I  will,"  echoed  Dumplings. 

In  the  delight  of  the  youngsters,  the  two 
men  harked  back  to  their  own  first  hunt  with 
a  real  rifle. 

Three  hours  later  Lily  Rose,  who  was 
returning  from  the  woods  where  she  had  been 
to  take  hot  potatoes  and  coffee  to  the  wood- 
choppers,  came  upon  Iry. 

"Oh,  Lily  Roth,"  he  cried  excitedly, 
"Dumplingth  hath  shot  Mithter  Derry,  and 
they've  took  him  to  Dumplingth'  houth." 

Lily  Rose  questioned  him  all  the  way  up 
to  the  farmhouse  and  succeeded  in  getting 
full  particulars. 

"Amarilly,"  she  said  tragically,  "I've  got 
some  bad  news  to  tell  you ;  but  you  know 
what  they  say;  'from  the  hour  of  our  birth 
[271] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

to  the  hour  we're  in  the  hearse,  there's  nothing 
so  bad  but  it  might  be  worse.' " 

"Lily  Rose,"  implored  Amarilly,  "bad 
news  is  not  improved  by  keeping.  What  is 
it?" 

"Dumpth  thot  Mithter  Deny,"  burst  in 
Iry  quickly,  resenting  Lily  Rose's  intercep- 
tion of  his  news. 

"He  ain't  goin'  to  die,"  said  Lily  Rose 
quickly,  and  contritely,  as  she  saw  the  color 
recede  from  Amarilly 's  cheeks. 

"No,  Amarilly,"  informed  Iry,  again 
thrusting  the  narrator  aside.  "He  ith  up 
and  kin  walk.  He  told  me  to  come  over  and 
tell  you  tho  you'd  hear  it  right." 

"Then  tell  me,  Iry,"  she  begged. 

"You  thee  we  wath  all  gittin'  over  a 
fence,  and  Dumpth  didn't  carry  hith  gun  like 
hith  pa  told  him  to,  and  it  went  off  and  thot 
Mithter  Derry,  but  it  didn't  knock  him  over, 
and  Dumpth'  pa  give  him  thome  kind  of  aid." 

"Lemonade,"  prompted  Co. 

"Lemonade  yer  granmother!"  scoffed  Iry. 
"He  bound  him  up.  When  we  come  out  on 
the  road,  a  doctor  come  along  in  hith  auto 
and  took  uth  all  to  Dumplingth'  houth  and 
bound  up  Mithter  Derry  thome  more,  and 
[272] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

then  Mithter  Deny  told  me  to  ride  with  the 
doctor  ath  far  ath  I  could." 

"What  I  can't  understand,"  said  Mrs. 
Jenkins,  "is  how  it  wasn't  you  as  got  shot, 
Try.  Your  luck  may  be  changin'.  Lily  Rose, 
what  did  you  want  to  skeer  us  that  way  about 
Mr.  Derry  for  and  make  us  think  he  was  shot 
serious?" 

"You  ain't  hearn  the  worst  yet,"  said 
Lily  Rose  loftily.  "Go  on  with  the  rest, 
Iry." 

"I  come  out  of  the  houth  ahead  of  doc,  and 
then  Dumplingth  run  out  and  went  down  by 
the  barn  and  begun  to  holler  hith  head  off. 
I  follered  and  athked  him  what  wath  the 
matter,  and  he  thed  the  houthkeeper  hed 
told  him  ath  how  Mithter  Derry's  hand  hed 
got  to  be  cut  off,  and  Dumplingth  knew  he 
done  it,  tho  he  felt  bad." 

"And,"  interpolated  the  first  narrator  in 
tragic  climax,  "it's  his  right  hand,  the  one  he 
paints  with !" 

"Well,"  said  the  Boarder  placidly,  "can't 
he  learn  to  be  a  southpaw?" 

Amarilly  was  very  pale  now. 

"I  will  go  right  over  to  the  Corners,"  she 
said. 

[273] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

As  she  walked  across  lots  to  the  river  road, 
she  was  arranging  Derry's  future  : 

"It  will  be  a  living  death  to  him  not  to  be 
able  to  paint,"  she  thought.  "He  must 
learn  to  use  his  left  hand  as  the  Boarder  said, 
and  that  will  take  such  patience  and  time! 
Poor  Mr.  Derry !  I  must  keep  right  at  him 
every  minute  and  not  let  him  give  up  prac- 
tising." 

As  she  came  around  a  bend  in  the  road,  she 
gave  a  little  cry.  Derry  was  coming  toward 
her,  his  right  arm  hanging  unnaturally 
straight,  the  hand  bandaged. 

Then  something  started  in  Amarilly's  heart. 
It  grew  and  grew  until  by  the  time  she  had 
come  up  to  him,  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  too  big 
and  too  beautiful  to  hold. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Deny!"  she  cried,  running  up 
to  him.  "I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am  — 
I—" 

Her  voice  trailed  off  into  a  little  sob,  and 
she  clung  tight  to  his  left  hand  which  in  her 
distress  she  had  grasped. 

He  looked  at  her  keenly,  detecting  a  new 
note  in  her  voice. 

" Did  Iry  tell  you?" 

"Yes;  and  I  was  coming  to  you.  Is  it 
F2741 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

safe  for  you  to  be  about  like  this  ?     Did  you 
lose  much  blood  ?     When  — 

"Courville  was  right  there  with  the  first 
aid.  The  doctor  will  come  over  to-morrow 
and—" 

"Sit  down  here,  Mr.  Derry,"  she  said, 
going  toward  a  fallen  tree.  "I  want  to  talk 
to  you." 

He  sat  down  beside  her. 

"You  are  very  brave  in  the  face  of  such  a 
calamity,  Mr.  Derry;  but  if  you  only  will, 
you  can  learn  to  use  your  left  hand  as  deftly 
as  your  right,  if  you  will  be  patient  and  per- 
sistent. You  must,  Mr.  Derry.  You  won't 
let  the  loss  of  your  hand  keep  you  from  your 
work?" 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"But,  Amarilly,  you  know  I  am  not  long 
on  patience,  not  that  kind.  To  succeed  and 
keep  up  the  pace,  I  must  have  a  constant 
spur.  Will  you  promise  to  help  me  in  my 
need  and  keep  me  eternally  at  it,  as  you  used 
to  do  in  our  studio  days  when  I  would  get 
lazy  and  try  to  procrastinate?" 

"Indeed,  I  will,  Mr.  Derry,"  she  promised 
eagerly.     "I'll   come   to   your   studio   every 
day  and  make  you  work." 
[275] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"But  that  isn't  enough!"  he  said,  his  eyes 
darkening.  "It  isn't  enough  to  have  your 
encouragement  in  my  working  hours.  I  must 
have  it  in  my  other  hours  —  hours  of  enforced 
idleness,  when  the  devils  of  discouragement 
and  despair  will  be  sure  to  attack  and  weaken 
me.  Amarilly,  you  wouldn't  marry  me  for 
love  of  me,  but  won't  you  now  —  when  I  need 
you  so  much  —  when  without  you  I  cannot 
work  —  or  live?" 

The  something  in  Amarilly 's  heart  which 
had  taken  such  deep  and  hardy  root  over- 
came her  opposition. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Deny,"  she  said  quietly,.  "I 
will." 

His  uninjured  arm  came  quickly  and  closely 
about  her.  A  wave  of  color  rolled  upward 
from  her  slender  threat.  Beneath  her  lashes 
lurked  a  look,  tender  and  exquisite. 

"Amarilly,"  he  said  softly,  "promise  again. 
Will  you  be  my  wife?" 

As  a  bridge  yields  to  the  vibration  of  a 
certain  note,  so  the  one  little  point  of  resist- 
ance in  Amarilly  was  broken  by  his  appeal. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  with  an  intonation  a  man 
hears  but  once  in  his  Me,  "yes,  Mr.  Derry, 
I  will." 

[276] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

Lily  Rose  had  no  appetite  that  night  for 
supper.  She  was  too  absorbed  in  the  blissful 
pleasure  of  watching  Amarilly  as  she  cut  the 
meat  on  Derry's  plate,  and  performed  similar 
offices  for  him. 

"It's  better  than  movies  nor  novels,"  she 
thought,  as  she  whipped  the  work  through, 
scuffled  the  children  to  bed  and  maneuvered 
their  elders  into  remote  backgrounds. 

"Amarilly,"  said  Derry,  when  they  were 
alone  in  the  long,  low-ceilinged,  dimly -lighted 
living-room,  "I  have  a  confession  to  make." 

"Something  about  your  past?"  she  asked 
with  a  light  laugh. 

"Yes;   a  very  recent  past." 

"About  the  red-headed  girl  whose  picture 
you  painted?" 

"Much  more  recent  than  that.  Amarilly, 
a  promise  has  a  serious  and  solemn  meaning 
to  you,  hasn't  it?" 

"Why,  of  course,  Mr.  Derry." 

"Aren't  you  ever  going  to  omit  the  'Mr'?" 

"I  don't  believe  so,  Mr.  Derry.  It  would 
be  just  as  difficult  as  it  would  be  to  stop  saying 
'Ma.'" 

"I  think  I  like  the  sound  of  it,  anyway. 
But  I  won't  make  this  confession,  Amarilly, 
[277] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

unless  you  promise  perfect  absolution.  Will 
you?" 

"I  surely  will,  Mr.  Derry,"  she  promised. 

"As  I  was  about  to  say,  Amarilly,  having 
promised  to  marry  me,  you  will  not  retract 
under  any  circumstances  ?  " 

"Yes;  under  some  circumstances." 

"What,  for  instance?" 

"If  you  should  tell  me  you  had  changed 
your  mind  and  didn't  care  for  me." 

"That  would  be  impossible.  My  love  for 
you  is  more  rock-like  than  the  laws  of  the 
Medes  and  Persians.  So,  now  for  my  con- 
fession. The  wound  in  my  hand  is  only  a 
flesh  wound  which  a  little  time  and  attention 
will  entirely  heal." 

With  quick  intuition  Amarilly  grasped  the 
situation. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Derry!  Such  a  flimsy  trick! 
And  I  played  right  into  your  hands." 

"Yes;    and  into  my  arms,  too." 

"But,  Mr.  Derry,  that  doesn't  seem  like 
you  — " 

"Wait,   Amarilly.     /   didn't   deceive  you. 

Courville's  housekeeper  is  a  pessimist,  and 

she  worked  a  grudge  off  on  Dumps  by  voicing 

her  forebodings,   I   presume.     When   I   first 

[278] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

met  you  in  the  woods  this  bright  and  beautiful 
morning  I  didn't  know  what  you  had  heard, 
and  when  I  divined  what  you  imagined,  I 
couldn't  help  letting  you  think  the  worst 
until  I  had  your  promise." 

"It  doesn't  seem  like  you,  Mr.  Deny  - 

"I  know,  dear ;  but  you  see  Lily  Rose  made 
me  able  to  catch  the  cue  quickly.  She  said 
you  might  take  me  if  I  needed  you,  and  I  do 
need  you.  My  right  hand  needs  you  as 
much  as  my  left  one  does.  My  hand  and 
heart  will  both  be  paralyzed  if  you  go  back 
on  me  now.  Won't  you  forgive  me?" 

"I  forgive  you  because  —  well  —  I  think 
I  must  always  have  had  in  my  heart  the  feel- 
ing of  a  pauperess  for  her  prince  toward  you." 

"Then  why  were  you  so  persistent  in  your 
refusal?" 

"I  was  afraid  at  first.  I  thought  I  ought 
not  to  ;  and  then  —  Oh,  Mr.  Derry,  were  you 
ever  so  happy  in  the  thought  of  something 
coming  that  you  just  had  to  put  it  off? 
But  I  didn't  really  know  until  Iry  told  me 
you  must  lose  your  hand." 

"Well,"  said  Deny,  "thank  the  Lord  for 
Dumplings'  gun !  Dumplings  will  be  glad 
to  learn  that  his  prayer  has  been  granted." 
[279] 


AMARILLY  IN  LOVE 

"I  told  you,  Mr.  Deny,"  reminded  Lily 
Rose,  the  next  day,  "that  a  way  would  come. 
Do  you  know,  though  I  bet  she  wouldn't 
own  up  to  it,  I  think  Amarilly  way  down  in 
her  heart  is  sorry  your  hand  ain't  injured  for 
keeps." 

"Why,  Lily  Rose!"  he  exclaimed  incredu- 
lously. 

"  Yes ;  she  would  so  have  loved  to  fuss  over 
you  and  teach  you  how  to  use  your  left  hand. 
It's  the  motherin'  instinct  that  leads  women 
to  love,  and  if  they  don't  feel  like  motherin' 
the  man  they've  wed,  God  help  him  ! " 

"Lily  Rose,"  asked  Derry  gravely,  "did 
you  read  that  in  a  book?" 


[280] 


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